


Fate

by SilverDust09



Series: Fate series [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, R Plus L Equals J
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2019-08-02 05:11:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 51
Words: 72,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16298774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverDust09/pseuds/SilverDust09
Summary: AU: Prince Aegon dies only a day after his birth. Angered by a another failure the Mad King forces the High Septon to annul the marriage between Princess Elia and Prince Rhaegar. Devoid of another possible ally, Prince Rhaegar is desperate to find a way to remove his mad father from power...





	1. Prologue

**Arthur**

The soft sound of a harp met his ears as he entered the dimly-lit solar. It didn’t surprise him when he found Prince Rhaegar seated next to the painted window.

It was the Prince’s favourite place and many a song was composed here.

 _Listening to the storm inspires me_ , he had told Arthur not long ago.

“You are late,” Jon Connington grumbled. ”What took you so long?”

Arthur couldn’t help but to laugh. It felt more as if Jon was unhappy for his intrusion.

“The King was busy. Three burnings in a week and it seems we will soon have a new Hand of the King. Tywin Lannister pleaded illness and resigned from his position. The cut it short…The King’s ill-mood kept me away.”

“Don’t fret about the vicious troll, Arthur,” Rhaegar quipped and put his harp away. It was a beautiful instrument made of dark wood and silver strings.”If the gods are kind we will soon be rid of him.”

Arthur tried to smile, but failed. _My Prince will not be pleased when he hears about the King’s plans._

“How so?” Arthur asked and tried to prolong the inevitable.

“Lord Whent,” Jon Connington added and handed Arthur a cup of wine. ”Said Lord will soon host a tourney. It seems our plans are finally taking form.”

“Indeed,” Arthur added and brought the cup to his lips. He savoured the taste and took a seat at the Painted Table. This was the room where Aegon the Conqueror planned his invasion. It was quite ironic that they came here to plan the downfall of King Aerys.”I assume this means you will soon take a new bride?”

“I suppose,” Rhaegar remarked and considered his question. ”That is the case.”

“You don’t sound very enthusiastic?” Arthur asked, though he knew the reason. King Aerys sent Lord Steffon Baratheon to Essos to find Prince Rhaegar a bride of Valyrian blood. Sadly, Steffon Baratheon was unable to find such a bride and only found an early grave. The marriage to the Dornish Princess Elia Martell followed and resulted in the birth of Princess Rhaenys, but no living son. Barely a year ago the Princess Elia birthed a son who died a few days later and nearly killed the fragile woman. The King was so angered by this event that he forced the High Septon to annul the marriage between Princess Elia and his son Prince Rhaegar. This nearly led to an uprising of the Faith and Dorne, but such things didn’t matter to King Aerys.

In the end it was Princess Elia’s reluctant agreement to the annulment that achieved peace, though the situation was still more than delicate. Princess Elia returned to Dorne, but her daughter Princess Rhaenys remained a hostage. Not even Prince Rhaegar was allowed access to his only child as the King handed her to one of his most loyal supporters: Lucerys Velaryon **.**

“I expect that my Lord Father will soon introduce me to another bride,” Prince Rhaegar said and shrugged his shoulders.

“I understand what you are trying to say, my Prince,” Jon Connington added gently. ”But that is why we should make use of your lack of betrothal. Mayhaps the King can be convinced to agree to it later… he seems very anxious for a grandson.”

“I suppose,” Rhaegar said and met Lord Connington’s gaze. The candlelight met his eyes and made them shine like two velvet gemstones. They swam with sadness and anger. Arthur believed to know why. The King returned to Queen Rhaella’s bed. ”And I have already considered several brides, but choosing is harder than expected when I don’t know any of them.”

“What about Cersei Lannister?” Jon Connington offered.”Tywin hates the King. He would support you.”

“True,” Rhaegar confirmed, but the expression on his face told Arthur that he didn’t agree with Jon’s assessment. ”But doing so would be like writing treason on my forehead. And I doubt my father’s wish for a grandson is enough to forget his grudge against Lord Tywin.”

“What about the Tully girls?” Arthur suggested and placed his empty cup on the table.

“The older one is already betrothed to the Stark heir and the younger one is below our Prince.”

Arthur sighed deeply. Nobody was ever good enough for Jon.

“What about the Stark girl?” Arthur offered instead. ”I heard she is quite pretty, still but half a child.”

“Youth doesn’t matter…only if she is healthy enough to bear sons,” Jon countered. ”I heard of an impending betrothal to Robert Baratheon, though that shouldn’t matter. I doubt Rickard Stark would refuse a match with the Crown Prince.”

“I heard you,” Rhaegar replied and his gaze flickered to the painted window. Three dragons curled their heads around each other and threw yellow spiralling flames into the air. ”And I will look out for these girls, but I cannot do anything without my Lord Father’s approval. And you are right.”

“Speaking about your Lord Father the King,” Arthur added and pulled out the letter he was meant to deliver. ”He calls you to King’s Landing.”

Rhaegar frowned and picked the letter from his hand. Quietly, he read and Arthur braced himself for the Prince’s reaction. _Here it comes._

“Damn him!” Rhaegar snapped angrily and slammed the letter on the table. ”Curse Varys! How did he find out about our ploy?”

Jon gave Rhaegar a concerned look.

“Dark tidings, my Prince?”

Rhaegar huffed and brushed his hands over his pale face. He remained like this for a brief moment, before he lifted his head and gave both Jon and Arthur a weary smile.

“The King intends to attend the tourney.”

…

**Rhaegar**

“Took you long enough!” he heard the grumbling voice of the vicious troll that was his father. ”Were you trying to hide away at Dragonstone, son?”

Rhaegar balled his fists and brushed away the feelings of anger stirring in his guts. There was no word to describe the hatred his father’s presence woke inside him.

He didn’t even look human anymore. His body was thin like a skeleton, his hair a tangle of white framing his gaunt face. His fingernails were sharp like the fangs of a dragon and his silken robes were tattered as if someone cut them apart with a sharp blade.

The smell was even worse. There was always a hint of smoke lingering around him.

“My bannermen kept me occupied, father,” he replied and feigned politeness. He kept his gaze intentionally low, though he instinctively searched for his Lady Mother, standing in the shadows of the barbed throne.

She appeared impassive as ever. Her fragile body was covered in a dress of flowing velvet and a pale pink shawl was wound around her slender throat. Yet even these garments were unable to hide the red bruises spiralling around her neck and arms.

“Lies!” his father sneered angrily. ”I know that you are planning my demise, boy. The only reason you are alive is Viserys’ youth.”

Rhaegar swallowed hard.

“I would never dare,” he replied and averted his gaze.”You have my full loyalty.”

“Another lie!” his father snapped and bared his yellow teeth. ”But I intend to be merciful, because you are still of use to me. I am giving you one last chance to prove yourself worthy. Thank your mother.”

Rhaegar trembled and lifted his head.

His mother looked at him, her purple eyes wide in fear. He balled his fists and brushed away a wave of rage threatening to overwhelm him. ”I thank you, dear mother. How can I prove myself worthy, Lord Father?”

“By producing an heir,” his Lord father explained. ” Choose any bride you like…as long as it isn’t Tywin’s whelp. I am sick and tired of these failures.”

Rhaegar lowered his head in acceptance.

“I will do my best, father.” _I will do my best to get rid of you._

…


	2. Lyanna

**Lyanna**

The sun made the God’s Eye glitter like a mirror of silver. Lyanna always thought that Winterfell was the most beautiful place in the world, but there was something breath-taking about Harrenhall. The sheer amount of people attending this tourney fascinated her even more. From an elevated spot on a hill she was able to watch the great wave of people heading through the blackened gates. She saw ladies garbed in the finest of silks, great knights mounted on marvellous descriers and young squires carrying the colourful banners of their houses.

Even the air smelled different. There was the smell of horse mixing with the flowery smell of perfume.

“Can you see the mist?” Benjen asked her and pointed in the distance. There was an island shrouded in thick mist. ”That is the Island of Faces. I heard they have weirwood trees there.”

“Really?” she asked, full of wonderment. She always thought that Winterfell was the only place with real weirwood trees.

“Really,” her brother replied proudly. He was two years younger, but already half a head taller than her. Garbed in pale silken cloak he looked every bit like young lord ought to be.

It made her wonder what Bran and Ned will look like. She hadn’t seen them in nearly a year.

“Lya! Ned and Bran are coming our way!” Benjen’s shrill voice snapped her out of her reverie. He pulled on her arm and pointed at the broad dusty road sloping below the hill, where she spotted a column of riders.

High above the mounted men fluttered the banners of House Stark and Baratheon.

 _Father would be pleased,_ she thought and felt a hint of resentment washing over her. Nothing was official yet, but the only reason she was allowed to come here was to meet her future betrothed, Robert Baratheon. She met him before when she visited Brandon in Riverrun, but that felt now almost like a lifetime ago.

 _I have to make the best of it_ , she told herself and threw her silken shawl over her shoulder. She preferred her riding garb, but she promised her Lord Father to make the best impression on her betrothed. Thus she chose a fine white silk dress and a pale blue shawl. Even her usually wild curls were delicately braided and arranged on top of her head. Her handmaid Jorelle advised her to choose a fine hairnet of pearls, but Lyanna picked the blue winter roses her late mother favoured.

“Lya!” Benjen shrieked again and waved his hand before her eyes.”Lya!”

She grabbed his hand and pulled hard.

“Stop your stupid waving!” she snapped and grinned. ”I heard you, Ben. Bran and Ned are coming our way…”

He frowned and freed his hand, before hopping to his feet. Lya feared he might burst from the excitement as he ran down the hill, towards the approaching riders.

“Ben!” she heard Bran’s bark of a laugh, echoing over the crowd of people. By the time Lyanna had reached them Benjen found himself in Bran’s arms, his feet no longer touching the ground. Her brother Brandon or Bran was a mighty man and it seemed he had grown even more over the last year.

“Put me down, Bran!” Ben complained and Bran nearly dropped their brother as his grey eyes darted to her.

Ned was also there, a soft smile playing on his lips. Lyanna returned it, but wondered where he left Robert Baratheon. Those two usually stuck together like a newlywed pair.

“Ned,” she greeted him and threw her arms around his shoulders. ”Oh, how I have missed you!”

“And I you!” Ned assured her and kissed her brow. Then he turned to Bran, who was still annoying their brother Benjen.

“Don’t you want to greet our sister?”

Bran frowned at her and started to stroke his beard.

“Are you sure she is our sister?” he asked and grinned. ”This one looks almost like a girl…”

Lyanna didn’t hesitate and kicked his shin.

“And you look almost like a fool!” she snapped back, before hopping into his arms. He twirled her around and made her giggle like a little girl.

“I apologize, but I couldn’t help it,” he added gently and placed a wet kiss on her cheek. ”But it is hard to believe that you are all grown-up, sweet sister.”

“Says the least grown-up person among us,” Ned remarked calmly earned himself a pat on the head by their brother.

Benjen chuckled and started to pull on Ned’s arm.

“Was that a joke? I can scarcely believe it.”

“The Eyrie changed you,” Lyanna remarked with a smile and noticed the approaching banner of House Baratheon. It fluttered above the head of a massive man, garbed in polished armour and a horned helmet.

His barking laughter made her ears bleed, but his presence brought a smile to Ned’s lips.

A moment later, said man wound his massive arm around Ned’s shoulder, a bright grin spreading over his bearded face.

Robert Baratheon was a good-looking man. Nobody could deny that. His corded body was every maiden’s dream and his blue eyes reminiscent of summer.

It wasn’t hard to understand why Ned liked him so much. He was the kind of man who enjoyed his life to the fullest and smiled easily. He was everything Ned wanted to be, though her quiet brother would have never admitted it openly.

Robert Baratheon’s smile only intensified when he found her standing there next to Bran.

“My Lady Lyanna,” he greeted and dropped his head, his blue eyes taking an almost dreamy expression. ”It is a pleasure to see you again.”

She forced a polite smile over her lips and dropped a curtsy.

“The pleasure is mine,” she added and was soon blessed with a kiss on the hand. He towered over her like a giant, his clear blue eyes taking in her appearance. ”Was the travel kind?”

He grinned and squeezed her hand.

“Your brother got horrible drunk and thus our departure was delayed for a day.”

“You mean the both of you got horrible drunk!” Ned added and crossed his arms. He sounded like a mother hen, but his chiding words only earned him another round of laughter from Bran and Robert Baratheon.

Lyanna made use of that moment and freed her hand from his tight grip.

Yet the Lord of the Stormlands proved much quicker and pulled her backwards. She nearly stumbled and her shawl slipped from her shoulders.

“We barely spoke and you are already trying to slip away, my Lady,” he japed and finally let go of her hand.

Lyanna ignored him and picked up the shawl. Then she quickly pulled the garment around her shoulders to hide her cleavage. She has yet to get comfortable with these low-cut dresses so common in the south.

“I apologize for my clumsiness,” she replied and tried to overplay her discomfort.

“No apology needed,” Robert remarked and graced her with another disarming smile. ”But there is something I wanted to ask.”

He sounded even a little flustered.

“Then speak, my Lord,” she prodded and met his gaze.

“I intend to partake in the melee,” he declared proudly. ”And I would be honoured to receive your favour.”

Any normal maid would have sighed or felt a swarm of butterflies fluttering through her stomach. Yet Lyanna felt nothing.

She didn’t even dislike Ned’s friend, but there was something about his personality that kept such at bay.

“I fear I cannot,” she explained calmly and met Ned’s gaze. ”Ned has my favour. I hope you understand, my Lord.”

She expected disappointment, but the Lord of the Stormlands howled with laughter.

“I see,” he added once he had regained his composure and patted Ned’s shoulder. ”And I agree with you, my Lady. Ned is in dire need of such a lucky charm.”

“And you call yourself my friend,” Ned remarked in good humour.

Robert Baratheon only laughed.

It was then that Lyanna realized why she didn’t sigh when Lord Baratheon flashed her one of his brilliant smiles.

Robert Baratheon was too much like her brother Bran.

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More of an introduction chapter for Lya and the Starks and Robert. Next chapter will be from Benjen's pov. If someone is confused by the names all of the Starks have nicknames: Brandon is Bran. Benjen is Ben. Lyanna is Lya. And Eddard is of course Ned.  
> I know people always assume that Lyanna disliked Robert because he fathered a bastard due to the memory Ned remembers about her where she basically tells Ned that Robert will never change, but I honestly believe this was only part of the reason. I think Robert was simply not her type and that they could have actually gotten along if Robert wasn't infatuated with her. In regards to Brandon: he has some shades of Robert about him and he likes girls a bit too much. It wouldn't surprise me if he has bastards running around somewhere. That was also what Lyanna was kinda referring to in the last sentence, though she also meant that Brandon has a similiar character like Robert.


	3. Benjen

**Benjen**

Benjen was hardly able to contain his excitement as he watched all these great knights mounted on their horses. He hoped that he might one day be one of them. He could already see it play out before his eyes. Mounted on a mighty destrier he cut down one enemy after another…

“Who is that?” Lyanna asked and pulled on his shoulder, snapping him out of his glorious dreams.

Benjen frowned and turned his head to take in the golden knight seated on a mighty white horse. His hair was as golden as his armor and his smile sharper than Valyrian steel. Yet it was the crimson cloak and the golden lion on his breast that betrayed his identity.

“I think that is Jaime Lannister...Lord Tywin Lannister’s heir,” Benjen replied and watched as the golden knight wheeled his horse around. He grinned and winked at a flock of women. The one the golden knight smiled at was tall and garbed in a dress of red silk, her hair a river of gold, reaching way past her hips.

Benjen could only stare in awe. He had met a lot of girls and even kissed one, but this lady was as beautiful as the sun.

“Cersei! Did you see?” he heard the golden knight call out to the beautiful lady and now Benjen finally knew her name.

Cersei Lannister.

“Who are you staring at?” Lyanna asked amusedly. He quickly shook his head, banishing away any unholy thoughts he might have harbored towards the beautiful lady.

“No one.”

“I don’t believe you,” Lya answered and grinned. Then she hopped to her feet and pulled him towards the tents erected along the muddy trail leading to a row of brightly-colored booths. ”Now come along…we need to get back. I need a bath and a proper dress. That takes time.”

Benjen sighed.

“I miss the times when you were not trying to be a girl…,” he mumbled and was about to move on, but a pained cry aroused their attention.

“Did you hear that?” Benjen asked and turned his head in the direction of the sound.

“Aye!” Lyanna replied quickly and pulled him along. Together they passed the tents and promptly found the owner of the pained cry.

Yet he wasn’t alone. There were three boys, all older than Lyanna and Benjen. They laughed and hooted as they kicked the small man sprawled on the ground.

Lyanna let go of his hand and moved forward.

“Let go of him!” she shouted and picked up one of the practice blades sticking in the ground. It felt as if fate placed them there. She swang the blade in a threatening gesture and continued to approach calmly.

Benjen ignored them for a moment and took in the wounded man sprawled on the ground.

He was a rather small man, his clean-shaven face covered in blue bruises. His lips were cracked and blood trickled down his mouth and nose in a stream of crimson.

Yet it was the green lizard embellished on his jerkin that marked him as one of the crannogmen.

Lyanna must have had the same realization, for she abandoned all reason and stormed at the boys in a rush of anger.

“That’s my father’s man you hurt!” Lya snarled and hit the first boy between the legs. The portly boy yelped loudly, hot tears running down his cheeks. The second boy, who was thin like a spindle, she hit over the head, but it was the third one, big and strong, that proved the most dangerous enemy. He grabbed her arm and twisted it, trying to prey the weapon from her hand. The thin boy was trying to help the big boy, but Benjen intervened timely and hurled him to the ground.

He was older and stronger than Benjen, but he tried his best.

Exchanging curses and blows, they continued to roll in the grass as the big boy continued to pull on Lya’s arm.

Yet his sister wasn’t prepared to give in. Instead she kicked him hard and grabbed his arm, before burying her teeth in the boy’s pink skin.

He shrieked in pain and pushed her backwards.

His sister squeaked in pain when she hit the ground, but ignored it and quickly pushed herself back to her feet. The big boy tried to get to her, but she quickly rolled to the side and grabbed a fistful of dirt.

Benjen lay still trapped beneath his enemy and tried to free himself. His breath hitched when she hurled the dirt in the mighty boy’s face.

He huffed and puffed, but his sister showed him no mercy. She brought up her knee and kicked him right between the legs.

The mighty boy cried out in pain and fell to the ground, face forward. Lya made use of the moment and grabbed her blade, hitting him right on the back, over and over again.

“Apologize!” his sister demanded angrily and made him whimper. ”Apologize at once!”

“I will not, little runt!” the mighty boy grumbled and grabbed Lya’s feet, throwing her to the ground. He started to pull on her clothes, nearly smashing her.

Seeing this, Benjen lost all reason and hit the other boy in the face. Struggling to his feet, he tried to get to Lyanna, but she proved much quicker.

“I will show you, little whore!” the mighty boy snapped, but his sister showed him no mercy. She buried her nails in his face and made him screech.

With a quick motion she hopped to her feet and picked up her lost blade, holding it to the boy’s neck.

“Touch me again and Lord Tully will have your head! My brother Brandon is betrothed to his daughter!”

The mighty boy stared at her with wide eyes, his face as pale as fresh-fallen snow.

“Are you…are you…gods be good!” he muttered to himself, his eyes ready to drop out of his head.

Quickly, he pulled himself to his feet. Then he kicked the portly boy and grabbed the other one’s arm. ”We need to leave! Quick!”

The cowards fled, but any triumph he might have felt earlier faded when he noticed the state of the crannogman.

“Are you well, my Lord?” Benjen inquired and knelt down beside the man.

He moaned softly and tried to sit up, but only managed to do so after they helped him.

The man graced Benjen with a wavering smile and brushed the blood from his mouth. His eyes were the brightest green, like the grass of a meadow in spring.

“You have my thanks,” he added and pulled himself to his feet. He staggered a little, but Benjen and Lyanna caught him quickly enough.

“You are a crannogman,” his sister remarked and studied him curiously. “May we know your name?”

The crannogman blushed and straightened himself.

“I am Lord Howland Reed of Greywater Watch…a pleasure to meet you, my Lady,” he introduced himself and dipped his head. ”And you are?”

“Lyanna Stark,” she answered quickly and graced him with a smile. Then she patted Benjen's head. ”And this is Benjen Stark. He is my little brother.”

Benjen couldn’t help but to frown and pushed her hand away.

“Stop calling me little!” he complained. He hated it when she called him little. ”You are much smaller than me, Lya."

Surprisingly, the Lord of Greywater Watch started to laugh.

“I think you are mistaken, my young Lord. I fear I am the smallest person among our group.”

His sister blushed in embarrassment.

“I…forgive me,” she added hastily and began to brush the dirt from her clothing. Then she sighed. He knew what she was thinking. _Jorelle will scrub her until she is red like a lobster._

“There is nothing to forgive,” Lord Reed assured them. “And I owe you two a debt.”

“The squires got away,” Benjen remarked and brushed the dirt from his face. ”I will tell Brandon. He will have them apologize to you, my Lord.”

The small man grimaced in displeasure.

“That is not necessary,” he said and waved his hand. ”I don’t want to be a burden on you.”

“You are no burden,” his sister disagreed vehemently. ”Come and sit at our table tonight, my Lord. You can tell us about your home and then will find a way to punish those squires for their misdeeds.”

The soft smile curling on Lord Reed’s lips told Benjen that Lya would get her will.

…


	4. Lyanna

**Lyanna**

The long hall with the hundred hearths was filled to the brim. Bright chandeliers stood on every table and gave the long hall an eerie glimmer.

Their table was no far from the dancefloor where several minstrels played up their jolly tunes. Old and young danced, but not Lyanna.

Lyanna never showed talent for dancing thus she only shared a brief dance with each of her brothers and at last with Robert Baratheon. It turned out that he was an even worse dancer than her and ended in tirade of grumbling and barking laughter.

Lyanna soon returned to her seat next to Benjen. As expected, he was conversing with their guest of honor: Howland Reed, the Lord of Greywater Watch.

Benjen had yet to stop bombarding him with questions about his home. Lyanna was also curious, but she at least allowed Lord Reed to take a breath. He was after all badly, though he smiled happily when he made the acquaintance of her brothers.

They all welcomed him with great enthusiasm and soon he was dragged into their silly drinking games. Well, Bran’s and Robert Baratheon’s silly drinking games. Benjen and Lya were not allowed to participate and Ned watched them like a hawke.

 _He can be worse than father_ , she thought and listened to Bran’s tales of Riverrun.

As usual his story was delivered in the most dramatic manner possible.

“And then this little shit asks me to fight for Cat’s hand,” he recounted and held his hand to his neck to indicate the size of this “little shit”. Lyanna had listened only half-heartedly, but she already heard the story from Ben, who had been keeping constant correspondence with Bran throughout the year.

Ben shared Bran's amusement, but Lyanna didn't. Said “little shit” was named Petyr Baelish and Lord Hoster Tully’s ward. He was supposedly in love with her future good-sister and wanted to prevent the marriage between Catelyn and Bran.

Small and weak as he was he stood no chance against her mighty brother. All he received in return was a beating. And he only survived, because Lady Catelyn pleaded for his life.

Bran was very proud of himself, but Lyanna couldn't help but to roll her eyes.

What was there to be proud about? The “little shit” might have been a fool to challenge her brother, but one should admire him for simply daring to fight against a stronger enemy.

Ned seemed to share her thoughts, because he remained silent like her.

“And how did it end?” Robert asked in a slurred voice. ”Did you kill him?”

Brandon laughed.

“No…couldn’t bring myself to do it in front of these weeping ladies. Cat would have never forgiven me. Well, the “little shit” will have a hard time walking.”

“I think you two should lower our voices…,” Ned muttered and jerked his head towards the large table elevated above the other tables. It was the King’s table, but they have yet to see him in person.

Bran didn’t even want to believe it when he heard that the King announced his attendance.  _Nobody has seen the mad dragon in years_ , Brandon had told her.  _He is too afraid to get out of his Red Keep._

As of now, the King’s table was still empty, but she noticed that Ned was staring at the table all few minutes as if he expected the King to appear any moment.

“I doubt he is coming,” Bran muttered and returned to his seat. Then he grabbed the flagon of wine and re-filled his cup. ”I haven’t even seen a glimpse of the Prince.”

“I heard there is bad blood between Prince Rhaegar and the King,” Benjen added in a whispering voice and earned himself a sharp look from Ned.

“Not here!” Ned muttered. ”The King could take your head for such words. I have never met him, but I heard nasty things about him.”

“Oh...I,” Ben stuttered fearfully and covered his mouth. ”I didn’t mean…,” he continued, but his voice was drowned out by the sound of a trumpet.

The sound of the instrument worked like a spell. Again the trumpet sounded and a herald appeared at the table to announce the King.

The word stood still. The minstrels stopped their play. The Lords and Ladies returned to their seats and the page boys stopped in their tracks.

Lyanna fisted the tablecloth in anticipation, but the King proved to be a sore disappointment.

She always imagined him as some sort of half-human with scales and black wings. Yet this supposed Mad King was nothing more than an ugly man with tattered clothes and untidy hair. She couldn’t deny that there was something mad in the way he eyed the people around him, but he didn’t look particularly threatening.

_Nobody would be afraid of him if he didn't have the Kingsguard to do his bidding._

Queen Rhaella was much more interesting than her husband. Her long silver hair and bright purple eyes fascinated Lyanna, though there was also something fragile and sad about her. Just looking at her made her melancholic.

At last came Prince Rhaegar.

He had little of his father. There was something gallant and graceful about him, though his toned body told her that he knew how to use a blade. He had his mother’s even-shaped features and his long silver hair glittered like waterfall of moonlight.

The maidens sighed as they watched him take his seat next to the King, who was grumbling at one of his servants.

The expression on Prince Rhaegar’s face was unreadable, but he sat tense like a bowstring, his dark eyes fixed at the other side of the hall. It seemed Ben was right when he said the King and the Prince hold no love for each other.

When the King started to speak she understood why.

“It pleases me to be here,” he declared in a cracking voice. ”Lord Whent chose a fitting place to stage this tourney. It was here that Aegon the Conqueror won a great victory. It was here that his enemy beheld the might of House Targaryen…,” he continued to mumble and stopped abruptly.

Deadly silence reigned for moment as the King looked left and right as if he expected some sort of reaction. To Lyanna he looked like a mummer who forgot his lines.

Prince Rhaegar grimaced and leaned closer to whisper in his father's ear. Lyanna couldn’t help but to notice how the Prince wrinkled his nose. It seemed the very presence of his father disgusted him.

“Ah, I forgot,” the King grumbled and lifted his head. He did this in such a sudden manner that his crown nearly dropped from his head. ”My son Prince Rhaegar will open the first night of the tourney with a song. You may feel honored.”

Lyanna didn’t believe her ears when the guests started to clap enthusiastically.

Their King was a dimwit, but they were honoring as if he was King Jaehaerys reborn. Lyanna didn’t know why, but the absurdity of the situation reminded her of a story her Old Nan told when she was a little girl. It was the story of a King who was promised a new suit of clothes that was supposedly invisible to those courtiers unfit for their positions. Yet in reality the King wore no clothes at all and the courtiers all pretended to admire his invisible garments. In the end it was a child who dared to point out the truth and even laughed at the King. Yet Old Nan never told her what happened to this daring child.

_This King would have probably burned it alive._

Thus the guests continued to clap until Prince Rhaegar took his seat in the middle of the room. A moment later a young boy appeared and handed him a beautiful harp made of darkwood and silver strings.

The Prince’s talent with the harp was known far and wide, but she remained skeptical. Lyanna had heard many minstrels, but nobody could compare to her late Lady Mother.

Silent anticipation reigned in the hall as the Prince took position and moved his slender fingers over the harp.

He brought forth a song both sad and sweet. It was an unknown composition, but it woke long buried memories inside her.

Her Lady Mother perished when she was seven. She often had to stay in bed, but she never failed to take care of Lyanna. Often when her coughing got particularly bad she would ask Lyanna to bring her high harp and then she would play for Lyanna and her siblings. In her last year she even tried to teach Lyanna, but she sadly didn't show much talent with the harp.

 _I was always too clumsy_ , she thought and brushed a tear away.

Yet it was already too late.

Ben saw it all and stifled his laughter.

“I never knew you could shed maidenly tears…,” he teased.

A jolt of anger and embarrassment washed over her. Without thinking about her actions she grabbed her cup and poured it over his head.

Ben stared back at her in shock as she rose to her feet and slipped out of the hall. She doubted anyone cared.

She certainly didn’t care.

She wasn’t supposed to cry. She was not like those silly maids with their frilly dresses and love for song.

And yet she couldn’t deny that the Prince's song touched her heart.

 _Mother would have liked it_ , she mused and pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. A chilly wind was blowing from the north and made the blackened walls whisper.

“My Lady,” Howland Reed’s calm voice snapped her out of her reverie. Lyanna was stunned by his sudden appearance. She didn’t even hear his approach. ”Are you well?”

She turned around and forced a smile over her lips.

“I am well, but I thank out for your concern, Lord Reed,” she replied and bridged the distance, coming to stand next to him. ”I just felt embarrassed... Did Ned send you to find me?”

He nodded his head.

“He was worried,” he explained and graced her with a gentle smile. ”And I volunteered to find you. Lord Brandon and Lord Robert are occupied with their wine and Lord Brandon went to escort Lord Benjen to bed.”

She sighed.

“I suppose I will have to apologize to Benjen.”

He chuckled and nodded his head.

“I suppose so,” he added and offered his arm.”But first we return to the feast...I hardly saw you dance.”

“I am not much of a dancer.”

“Neither am I,” he replied and patted her arm.”But I would be honored to  dance with you.”

“I would rather help you to regain your honor. Ben and I have been thinking about it day,” she added almost shyly. It was a silly idea, really, but she couldn’t help it.”Do you care to hear about our plan?”

He graced her with a warm smile.

“I am all ears, my Lady.”

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyanna thought they were clapping for Aerys, when they were actually clapping for Rhaegar. Next chapter: Ashara. Elia will also get her own pov, but a bit later. I am posting now, because I will be quite busy today. The Red Door, for those who are reading this story, will be updated in the next two days or so.


	5. Ashara

**Ashara**

The hall was filled with thousands of guests. Ashara had attended several tourneys, but none of them were as splendid as this one. It was not surprise that even the King decided to leave his lair. Ashara knew him from her time at court as one of Princess Elia’s ladies, though they tried to remain at Dragonstone whenever it was possible and thus far away from the King.

He looked quite sickly when she last laid eyes on the King, but it seemed his health had improved considerably, though he still carried this constant look of fear as if someone was standing behind him with a dagger.

 _A King has many enemies_ , her brother Arthur had told her more than once. _But King Aerys even fears his own shadow._

“Your brother is missing out on a great event,” Ashara remarked to Princess Elia Martell. She was a Lady of fragile beauty. Her long raven hair framed an oval face. The red silk dress she chose only helped to accentuate her warm brown eyes and her full red lips. King Aerys shamed her deeply when he annulled her marriage to Prince Rhaegar. What followed was even more shameful. The King forced her to accept the annulment by threatening the life of her daughter. Since then House Martell refused to speak to the Iron Throne.

Thus Elia Martell was the only member of her house attending the tourney, though she didn’t come here in name of House Martell, but to accompany her husband Baelor Hightower. She wed him only a few moons ago and supposedly against the will of her brother Doran Martell. He wanted her to wait longer, should the King reconsider his actions, but Elia remained adamant. Ashara knew why. The marriage to Baelor Hightower was her way of making peace with the past, though that certainly didn’t affect the matter of Rhaenys. The little Princess was another reason Elia came here. Sadly, only the King, his Queen and the Prince decided to attend the tourney.

“Doran forbade him to attend…he feared Oberyn might try something foolish,” Elia replied and fanned herself fresh air. ”For Rheanys’ sake we need to keep a calm head.”

Ashara nodded her head and brought her cup to her lips.

The wine was sweet and pleasant. The liquid also helped to loosen the tongue.

“For Rhaenys' sake,” she agreed and angled her head to look at the King's table. Prince Rhaegar was still seated next to his father and continued to observe the celebrations with a grim look.

 _Very grave_ , Elia had described him after their first meeting. Even Ashara couldn’t deny the Prince’s beauty, but she also recalled how much the King used to terrorize Elia. The constant humiliations only helped to worsen her already fragile health. Finally being rid of the King was probably the only blessing of this shameful annulment. Elia didn’t comment on it, but her health had improved considerably since her second marriage. Her face was no longer gaunt and pale, but rosy and full. She also gained weighted and her arms were no longer thin like spindles. Baelor Hightower was no prince nor was he as beautiful, but whatever he did, Ashara was grateful.

Ashara was also growing older. Only recently, her Lord Father urged her to finally find a husband, but she has yet to find such a man. She was not her father’s heir and thus she was not hurried into a marriage like her older brother, but that didn’t mean her Lord Father would be prepared to wait forever.

“Ashara,” Elia’s soft-spoken voice called her back to the present. ”Arthur finally appeared.”

Ashara blinked and angled her head to get a better look at the high table. Happiness washed over her as she spotted her brother, garbed in his polished armor and his snow-white cloak. She couldn’t be prouder, though she missed her brother every day. They were inseparable as children, but Arthur’s talent with the blade always destined him to become a knight.

Elia and Ashara waved at Arthur and he returned the gesture, but it was no surprise that he remained where he was. _The King wouldn’t like it if he spoke with us._

I could ask him for a dance, she thought daringly and swept her gaze over the rows of trestle tables. There she noticed three young men. One was tall like a giant, his boisterous laughter ringing through the hall. The second one was of a more slender built and he whispered in the ear of a slightly smaller man. Going by their similar coloring she believed them to be brothers, though the younger one lacked his brother’s disarming smile.

By now even Elia noticed their staring and hid her amused smile behind her black fan.

Ashara blushed, though she was not unused to such attention.

 _Who are they_ , she wondered, but then she noticed the banner of a wolf displayed above their table. _House Stark._

“Watch out,” Elia said and chuckled lightly. “The one with the bright smile is coming here.”

Ashara averted her gaze, trying to hide that she was aware of him.

“My name is Brandon Stark,” the one with the bright smile introduced himself and dipped his head as he searched her gaze.

“I am Lady Ashara Dayne,” she replied quickly and jerked her head at Elia. ”And this is my most beloved friend, Princess Elia Martell.”

Brandon Stark grinned from one ear to the other and jerked his head at his two companions. The giant of a man howled with laughter and patted the other one’s back, who was trying to hide away.

“This is my brother, Ned,” Brandon Stark explained. ”He is an all-around decent fellow, but a bit shy. Would you grace him with a dance?”

She was taken back by this request, but it also woke her interest. She had never met a man who was too shy to dance with her. Besides, a dance couldn’t hurt.

“It would be my pleasure,” she replied and took Brandon Stark’s offered arm.

The giant of a man eyed her hungrily when they came to stand before the high table, but Brandon Stark’s brother was barely looking at her, his cheeks deeply flushed. He wasn’t as handsome as his brother, but Ashara found his shyness strangely endearing.

It gave her a certain thrill to be the one to make the first step. Normally, it was expected of the man to court a lady and not the other way around.

“It would be my pleasure to dance with you, Lord Stark,” she offered with a gentle smile.

Her words showed effect, for he finally lifted his head and met her gaze. Ned Stark had his brother’s eyes, a pale grey like the silken cloak he wore around his shoulders.

He stared at her as if she just poured a heap of gold in his arms.

“My lady,” he mumbled and lowered his head. ”It would be an honor to dance with you.”

“Honor,” she repeated as she took his arm and led him to the dance floor. “What an odd choice of words…”

“I apologize if…,” he began, but she waved with her hand and flashed him a disarming smile. ”Don’t fret, my Lord. I liked it.”

Then she took his hand and placed it above her waist. The other one she took in her own and led the way. It turned out that Eddard Stark was a better dancer than most men here. He had the patience that so many others lacked, though he suffered certain moments of clumsiness whenever she smiled at him.

Yet he slowly began to lose his shyness when she started to ask him questions. They spoke of his home the North, his time in the Vale and his siblings. She knew that Lord Rickard Stark had a single daughter, but the worry Ned Stark showed about her absence touched her heart.

“She started to weep when she heard the Prince’s song and rushed out of the hall,” he explained.

Ashara nodded her head in understanding.

“That doesn’t surprise me. The Prince is a masterful harpist. There are no dry eyes whenever he plays.”

Suprisingly, Ned Stark started to laugh.

“Oh, I doubt that was the reason she wept,” he remarked and even smiled a little. ”My sister cries not easily, but our lady mother used to play the harp for us. She passed away many years ago.”

“I see,” Ashara replied. ”My Lady mother also died young. My brother Arthur is the bravest man I know, but he howled like a little child when she died. I don’t think your sister should feel ashamed for shedding a tear.”

“I will tell her,” he said and graced her with a warm smile, before squeezing her hand in an affectionate manner.

A gust of warmth washed over her. Her cheeks burned and she averted her gaze to find Elia.

She was waving at her, her face half-hidden behind a fan.

“It seems Princess Elia is waiting for your return,” he remarked amusedly and jerked his head in Elia’s direction.

“It seems so,” she agreed and turned around to meet his gaze. ”I should go back, but…we should meet again…Perhaps tomorrow after the melee?

He started at her in silence, as if stunned by her suggestion.

“Of course…I will surely need consolation after the melee,” he remarked in a lighter tone that suggested he was joking with her. ”I doubt my attendance will amount to much.”

She chuckled, amused by his lack of confidence. Most men tried to impress her with their prowess. This man in front of her was as humble as a beggar. It was strangely refreshing.

“Then after the melee, my Lord,” she confirmed and graced him with a smile, before slipping away to return to Elia’s side.

…


	6. Rhaegar

**Rhaegar**

A starry sky spread above them as Rhaegar led Cersei Lannister along the row of tents. Ladies passed by and smiled at him, two squires helped their drunken Lord back to his tent and a page boy clashed with Cersei Lannister.

A curse left her crimson lips, but the incident was soon banished from her mind as she flashed him another bright smile.

It was true what they said about Lord Tywin’s daughter. Golden-haired and graced with eyes of jade she was a truly beautiful woman. The dark crimson dress she wore only helped to accentuate her full figure.

Jon was certainly right when he said that Lord Tywin would readily betray the King to give his daughter a crown, but Rhaegar couldn’t help but to be wary of him. He was a man both intelligent and ruthless. Once wed to his daughter, he would be bound to him forever. Besides, the only way would have been a secret betrothal, but his father made even that impossible when he commanded him to take a bride. It certainly limited his choices.

And there was another reason that dimmed his interest in Cersei Lannister. Her bright smiles did nothing to him. His first infatuation was a servant girl who used to watch him spar with Arthur. He didn’t recall her name, but the girl’s smiles warmed him. Cersei’s Lannister’s body was desirable, but he felt no warmth when she smiled at him.

“It is a wonderful night, isn’ it?” she asked him. She sighed and tightened her grip on his arm.

“The stars are always beautiful,” he remarked and led her towards the tent placed on a hill. Behind them followed Arthur and several guards, his ever vigilant shadows. ”Though they pale in comparison to you, my Lady,” he forced the words over his lips. He may not intend to wed her, but he would need Tywin’s approval.

“Oh, you flatter me!” she tittered and he even believed to see a faint blush on her cheeks.

“On the contrary,” Rhaegar insisted and used the moment to entangle himself from her tight grip. ”I meant everything I said, but my head is heavy and my bed is waiting…”

“Of course…of course,” she tittered and sighed when he placed a kiss on her hand. ”Good night.”

Then she left, her red cloak fluttering behind her like the plumage of a bird. He hated playing such games, but it was sadly part of his life.

“She is very beautiful,” Arthur remarked later when they returned to his sleeping compartment.

“She is,” he remarked with a heavy voice. ”But her strong perfume and her constant talking makes my head squirm. And my father hates her family.”

Arthur nodded head in understanding and sat down next to him.

“Well, I have seen plenty of beautiful ladies vying for your attendance. All you need to do is pick one.”

“You know that it is not easy to choose,” he reminded Arthur. ”Did I ever tell you about the girl I saw in my visions?”

Arthur’s eyes widened. It was no surprise, for Rhaegar even avoided speaking of his visions to his friend Arthur Dayne.

“Who did you see?” Arthur asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“A maid of winter,” he replied and tried to recall her blurred face as he pulled off his cloak.

Arthur chuckled.

“I heard Hoster Tully’s daughters were delayed and will arrive tomorrow. And Lord Stark’s daughter apparently left the feast, because your song made her weep.”

Rhaegar shrugged his shoulders and brushed his hair out of his face.

“Well, you told me more than once that I should start composing more cheerful songs,” he added jokingly and smiled. Arthur’s presence always helped to lighten his mood. Seeing Elia, even from afar, reminded him of his helplessness. This tourney should have marked the end of his father’s reign, but somehow the Master of Whisperers found a way to cross his plan. He was relieved when she avoided speaking to him. It would have led to an argument with his father and she would have surely asked about Rhaenys. Yet even Rhaegar wasn’t allowed to see her. This shamed him the most. He wasn’t even able to see his own child…

He brushed those dark thoughts away and shifted his attention back to Arthur.

”Lord Stark’s daughter you say?” he asked his old friend. ”What was her name again?”

“Lyanna,” Arthur replied and patted his shoulder. ”She could be this maid…I heard they have constant winter in the North.”

Rhaegar knew that Arthur was joking with him. He may be his oldest friend, but Rhaegar was sure that even Arthur doubted his visions. Not that he blamed him for his skepticism. Rhaegar doubted his own sanity more than once.

He shrugged his shoulders and smiled at his friend.

“I suppose I should just play a sad song for her again. That ought to do the deed…I doubt Robert Baratheon knows how to play the harp.”

“You are the Crown Prince,” Arthur reminded him.”All you have to do is ask for her hand in marriage. Robert Baratheon matters not.”

“Maybe,” he replied. ”But she could be devoted to him…I hope for a semblance of affection from my future bride”

Arthur patted his shoulder and rose back to his feet.

“Well, I heard she poured a cup of wine over her brother’s head,  because he teased her. It seems you have your work cut out for you, old friend.”

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am updating now, because I will be busy today.


	7. Arthur

**Arthur**

Arthur watched as Ser Oswell led Ser Jaime Lannister away. Prince Rhaegar’s gaze followed them all the way, a grimace of anger notable on his face.

Only moments ago the young man knelt before the King to receive his acceptance in the Kingsguard. They tell the young knights that it is a great honor to serve in the Kingsguard and the young man probably thought the same, but Arthur was sure that the King had no intention to honor House Lannister.

 _The King chose the boy to slight Tywin_ , he was sure and patted Prince Rhaegar’s shoulder to call him back to the present moment.

“The next joust is about to begin,” he remarked and Prince Rhaegar finally lifted his head. The Prince showed little enthusiasm for the melee and now he looked even more miserable.

The news of Ser Jaime’s acceptance in the Kingsguard was another blow and the King surely enjoyed rubbing his victory in Prince Rhaegar’s face. Even from afar Arthur was able to see the King’s smile.

It spoke more than a thousand words: _Do not even try to stir up Tywin, my boy. I have his golden boy._

And the King certainly didn’t waste time to send the golden boy to King’s Landing. The Queen had been feeling ill throughout the tourney and pleaded with the King to return to the capital. Thus Ser Jaime Lannister received his first task: to guard the Queen and Prince Viserys.

“I heard you, Arthur,” Rhaegar replied and shifted his attention back to the tiltyard spreading before them.

It was the perfect day for a tourney. The sky above was a silken cloth of blue and not even the hint of a cloud could be seen. The bright sunlight only helped to enhance the bright-colored banners and garments worn by the high lords and ladies attending the tourney.

The onlookers cheered as the next competitors rode out to meet each other in the next match. One competitor was a knight from House Haigh while the other competitor called himself the Knight of the Laughing Tree.

This knight looked more than odd. His garb was a patchwork of ill-matched armor, sitting loosely on his slight form. His freshly-painted shield was just as strange. It showed a weirwood tree with a grotesque smile.

“I suppose his shield is the reason he calls himself the Knight of the Laughing Tree,” Prince Rhaegar stated matter-of-factly, a ghost of a smile playing on his pale lips. Then he straightened himself and appeared suddenly very eager to behold the impending match.

Arthur was relieved to see this. The Prince’s dark mood worried him.

“Maybe another Barristan the Bold?” Arthur suggested jokingly and earned himself a soft laugh from his old friend.

“Maybe,” Prince Rhaegar replied and watched as the small knight kicked his feet in the sides of his horse. The sound of rolling thunder filled their ears as the horse hooves met the ground.

The two knights met in the middle, but the Knight of the Laughing Tree proved quicker than his opponent. He moved slightly to the left, before driving the tip of his lance in his opponent’s chest. The impact sent the man flying from his saddle into the sand below.

It was a clear win and the squire led his Lord’s horse forward as an offer of ransom.

The Knight of the Laughing Tree waved his hand at the squire and raised his voice, muffled by the visor of his helmet.

“I only ask of your Lord to teach his squire honor!”

The squire looked fearful as his Lord stumbled over to his side to retrieve his horse. Then they left the tiltyard and the next competitor was called forward. It seemed knight from House Haigh was not the only competitor challenged by the Knight of the Laughing Tree.

The performance of the knight from House Frey proved even worse. The man rode as if he was too deep in his cups. He swayed with every movement of his horse and was barely able to hold his lance. He missed his opponent by a wide margin and ended up sprawled on the ground.

Again the offer of ransom was made and again the Knight of the Laughing Tree refused it. Like before, he only asked of Lord Frey to teach his squire honor.

“A daring fellow,” Prince Rhaegar whispered, half in admiration and half in fear as his dark eyes darted to the King.

The King frowned and chewed on his dirty fingernails. His crown sat uneven atop his head and his silken cloak sported several blood stains. The King must have cut himself when he was breaking his fast.

It was obvious that the King disliked this unknown enemy, but the same couldn’t be said about the commoners. They cheered loudly as he rode away to take his position at the other end of the tiltyard.

“Indeed,” Arthur whispered and watched as the illustrious knight rode out to meet his third enemy, a mighty knight from house Blount. It looked as if a mouse dared to challenge a giant. _This will be the boy’s first real challenge_ , Arthur knew and felt a hint of pity for the daring boy.

The horn sounded and again the sound of rolling thunder filled the air and the competitor’s lances broke. Ser Blount looked as if he hadn’t even felt the touch of his opponent’s lance. Unaffected he rode back to the other side of the tiltyard and received a fresh lance from his squire’s hand. The Knight of the Laughing Tree mirrored his opponent’s actions and retrieved his lance.

Again the opponents drove their horses forward and this time the tip of Ser Blount’s lance hit right where it belonged: the small knight’s chest. It was impressive enough that the boy was even able to remain in his saddle.

“That hurt,” Prince Rhaegar said and tensed visibly as the Knight of the Laughing Tree rode back to his position at the other end of the tiltyard. “The boy won’t be able to endure another hit.”

Arthur could only agree and felt the urge to put an end to this match. Yet that would also mean to reveal the boy’s true identity. And neither Prince Rhaegar nor Arthur could foresee what the King would do if he beheld the boy’s face.

Thus Arthur and Prince Rhaegar waited in tense silence as the small knight straightened himself and retrieved his lance. Again the horn sounded and the opponents urged their horses forward.

The small knight’s lance stood firm as he rushed at his opponent with a breath-taking speed. It was very subtle, but in the last moment before the impact the small knight had moved slightly to the side and slashed his lance straight in his opponent’s chest.

The rattling sound of the breaking lance could be heard all over the tiltyard, but the effect of the hit was much worse. The giant of House Blount was flung from his seat and kissed the dust. It must be a shameful loss for this mighty man to lose against a boy.

The Knight of the Laughing Tree didn’t even bother to wait for the offered ransom and pointed his gloved hand at the fallen knight.

“Again I ask you to teach your squire honor!”

Then the Knight of the Laughing wheeled his horse around and rode away, leaving the King, Arthur, Prince Rhaegar and the onlookers with one question: _Who is the Knight of the Laughing Tree?_

It didn’t surprise Arthur when Prince Rhaegar was called before the King.

“Bring me this unruly boy who dared to insult his King!” the King snarled, his purple eyes unnaturally dark as he gripped the handle of his seat.

“It is as you say, your Grace,” Prince Rhaegar answered in a calming voice. ”This was probably the act of an unruly boy, believing himself to be the next Barristan the Bold…no need to do something rash.”

Yet the King refused to listen and repeated his command in a more ferocious manner.

“Bring me this knight!” he snarled at his son, the King’s spittle littered all over the Prince Rhaegar’s doublet. ”And don’t you dare to come back with empty hands!”

…


	8. Lyanna

**Lyanna**

A sharp pain washed over her shoulder as she climbed from her horse. Ever carefully, she tried to pull off her armor, but she was usually clumsy.

_I should have asked Ben to wait here for me_ , she knew and flinched in pain as she tried to lift her hand to tie her horse to a nearby tree. With much effort she managed to do so and pulled off her helmet.

The fresh air touching her sweaty face felt heavenly and she decided to take her time to rest. She put a good amount of distance between herself and Harrenhall. She had enough time to gather her strength.

Thus she closed her eyes and took a moment to enjoy her victory. For the blink of a moment she wished her Lord Father could be here to see her.

_He would lock me up until I am old and brittle,_ she knew and made another attempt to pull off the rest of her ill-matched armor. She gritted her teeth to forget the pain and soon she was able to remove the last piece of mismatched armor.

Now all she had to do was to get rid of the evidence.

She gathered her strength and threw the pieces of armor into the woods. It was only her shield that remained.

It was a masterpiece and it made her heart ache to give the shield away. At least this shield she wanted to keep as a token of comfort for the days lying ahead of her as Robert’s wife.

One day, after she birthed Robert twenty children, she would take a look at it to remind herself of this glorious day.

_I am sorry Ben_ , she muttered to herself and smoothed her hand over the beautiful painting. Her hand trembled, but not from the pain. _It is better this way. Father would never forgive me if he found out the truth._

“There we have him!” someone behind her exclaimed and snapped him out of her reverie.

_Gods no_ , she muttered to herself and stumbled backwards. She gasped in pain when she bumped against the tree trunk.

Tears burned in her eyes as she tried to pull herself back to her feet, but it was already too late.

“Halt!” the stranger, seated atop a horse, called out to her and pointed his unsheathed blade at her. It was a man garbed in polished armor, a white cloak draped around his shoulders. ”Halt I said!”

“Do you have him, Arthur?” another voice echoed in her ears, deeper and darker.

_This is Ser Arthur Dayne! I am fucked! The King must have sent them!_

“I have him,” Ser Arthur confirmed, an amused smile playing on his lips as he climbed from his horse.

The other man mirrored his actions and stumbled through the thick foliage to join Ser Arthur.

By then Ser Arthur Dayne had reached her. Not knowing what to do, she unsheathed he dagger and tried to calm her nerves.

_I will kill him when he touches me_ , she told herself. It didn’t work. Her hands felt sweaty and her throat felt dry. _It is the only way._

Suddenly, she forgot all her bravery.

She could only think what the Mad King would do to her. She heard that he enjoys burning his enemies alive. At least that is what Bran had told her not long ago.

“It seems the Knight of the Laughing Tree is a girl,” Ser Arthur remarked to his nearing companion. Then he smiled. “May I introduce…Lady Lyanna Stark.”

“What do you say?” his companion asked in utter disbelief and came to stand beside Ser Arthur. Lyanna nearly pissed herself when she realized who this companion was.

His dark indigo eyes and his disheveled silver hair identified him as the Crown Prince Rhaegar Targaryen.

_Seven Hells! I am more than fucked!_

“Don’t get closer!” she snapped at them, her right hand placed against the nearby tree and in her left hand wrapped around her dagger. She placed the sharp blade to her neck and gave them a challenging look. The sharp metal was biting into her skin, but she tried to forget her fear. She heard cutting one’s throat was a quick death.

Yet she still trembled like a young tree bared to the storm.

“My Lady!” The Prince exclaimed, his face pale like milk. ”Don’t do anything hasty! We mean you no harm!”

“I don’t believe you!” she snapped back and met his gaze. ”Everyone knows that your family is mad. One of your kin even drank wildfire, because he believed it would turn him into a dragon. I rather die by my own hand than on the executioner’s block.”

What happened next confused her only more. She expected him to storm towards her, perhaps to prey the dagger from her hand, but he did no such thing.

He only stared at her, his dark eyes impossible wide as the silence continued to stretch between them.

Suddenly, she didn’t know why, the Prince started to laugh.

It started out as soft laughter and soon changed to a rumbling sound that left her speechless.

_He is really mad_ , she concluded and pressed her back against the tree. _Raving mad._

The Prince continued to laugh and it took quite a long time before he retained his composure.

He is face was very flushed and once he had straightened himself he shifted his attention back to Ser Arthur, an amused smile playing on his lips.

“Tell me, old friend. Did I forget to drink my daily dose of wildfire? I think I forgot. Why didn’t you remind me?”

Ser Arthur returned the Prince’s smile and played along.

“I have to ask your forgiveness, my Prince,” he replied in a tittering voice. ”I shall not forsake my duties again.”

Then they started to laugh again.

This obvious mockery roused her anger.

_First he laughs about me and now he dares to mock me!_

“Stop it!” she demanded in a firm voice. ”That is not funny!”

Finally, they stopped. The Prince stepped closer and his gaze darted to her shield.

“A pretty shield you have there,” he complimented and picked the shield from the ground to regard it more closely. “Is this your handiwork, my Lady?”

She was confused by his question, but she could hardly refuse to answer the Crown Prince’s question.

“My brother made it,” she explained and tightened her grip on her dagger. ”Give it back!”

His smile vanished and his face returned to a serious expression.

“I can’t do that. I can’t return with empty hands. As you rightly said…my father would not treat you kindly. That is why you will have to yield your shield. A small price if it means to keep your pretty head, my Lady.”

She didn’t dare to believe her ears and blushed at his compliment.

“Does that mean…” she stuttered disbelievingly and searched his face for a hint of falseness. ”That you are letting me go?”

He smiled and patted the shield as if this gesture explained everything.

“Indeed,” he confirmed and jerked his head at Ser Arthur. ”I will take your shield to my father and Ser Arthur will escort you back to your family,” he continued, but stilled for a moment, a hint of curiosity glinting in his dark eyes. ”Just one more question if you allow me....Why this mummery?”

She wanted to refuse, but was also afraid to challenge her luck.

Thus she decided to give him the truth.

“A friend of mine was humiliated by three unruly squires. I merely defended my honor. Make of it what you will,” she explained and sheathed her dagger. ”And I will gladly go with Ser Arthur, but first I need you to turn around, good Sir…and my Prince.”

Both Prince Rhaegar and Ser Arthur looked confused. She exhaled in frustration and pointed at her dirty clothes.

“I can’t return to Harrenhall dressed in such a manner…I brought a dress,” she explained and averted her gaze.

“Oh…,” the Prince said and finally realized what she meant. He even dipped his head as if to apologize and Ser Arthur chuckled. ”Of course.”

Once they had turned around she went to retrieve her dress and changed quickly. Her cheeks burned when she returned to join them.

“Are you ready, my Lady?” the Prince inquired as she tried to climb back on her horse. Yet that proved harder than expected. Her shoulder and arm hurt with every movement of her body.

“He hit your shoulder, didn’t he?” the Prince asked her, but she ignored him. She made another attempt, but winced in pain.

“The King is going to find us at this rate…” Ser Arthur remarked sarcastically.

Lyanna sighed and decided to swallow her pride.

“Well, then,” she said and jerked her head at the saddle. ”Would you be so kind?”

“Of course,” the Prince replied triumphantly and helped her in the saddle. It was humiliating to endure, but worse was his close presence. Most men she knew smelled of wine or sweat, but the Prince smelled of fresh grass and lavender. It was a far too pleasant smell.

“Is something amiss, my Lady?” the Prince asked her and searched her gaze. Lyanna shook her head and wheeled her horse around, to follow after Ser Arthur. She needed to get away.

The sun was descending behind the horizon when they made it back to Harrenhall. She was glad to find Ned and Brandon absent. They would only ask stupid questions.

“Lya!” Ben’s bright voice echoed in her ears as she stopped her horse. ”You are back!”

Ben jumped in her arms and embraced her tightly, before eying her from head to toe as if to make sure that everything was where it belonged.

“Don’t fret, Ben,” she replied and ruffled his hair. ”I am well as one can be.”

“Not if Lord Brandon hears of this!” Jorelle’s voice snapped like a whip. She was a girl two years her senior and a distant cousin from her mother’s side. It was also her Lady Mother who made her Lyanna’s companion. She was a kind girl, but now she carried one of her disapproving looks.”What were you thinking, my Lady? Dressing up as a knight…the gods help me!”

“There is nothing to fret about, my Lady,” Ser Arthur added gently and revealed his presence. ”The King won’t hear about this. I swear it.”

“Ser Arthur speaks true,” Lyanna confirmed and hoped that would quell Jorelle’s displeasure. ”He helped me to get back here.”

“I see,” Jorelle said and sighed deeply. Then she lowered her head and graced Ser Arthur with a smile. ”You have our thanks, good Sir.”

“On the contrary,” Ser Arthur replied with a smile and lowered his head. ”I have to thank you, my Lady Stark. It is a rare thing to see Prince Rhaegar smile.”

Then he wheeled his horse around and left.

Jorelle frowned while Ben stared after Ser Arthur.

Lyanna gave her maid an apologetic smile.

“I can explain everything.”

…


	9. Rhaegar

**Rhaegar**

A cold wind stirred the waters of the God’s Eye. Rhaegar didn’t know how and when it happened, but the blue sky had changed to a dark grey color, the sunlight barely able to penetrate through the thick clouds.

“It is cold here,” Arthur Dayne remarked as he continued to paddle the boat towards the island. The Island of Faces, this place was called. It was the second time Rhaegar came here. The last time he came to visit Lord Whent and decided to pay the island a visit after reading so many tales about this mysterious place. “And I fear it is going to rain.”

The people of the south cared little about the Old Gods, but Rhaegar knew the ancient tales scribbled down in old dusty pages.

It was here that the Children of the Forest signed their pact with the First Men, but that was a long time ago and now only the ancient weirwood trees remained as the last witnesses of this historical event.

He was a young boy when the first visions started to plague him almost daily. Sometimes he dreamed of dragons frozen in ice and on other days he dreamed of finding his grave in a wasteland of winter. It were these strange dreams that made him study the ancient scrolls and texts, but even these dusty pages were unable to give him the answers he was seeking for. It were these questions that had been plaguing his grandfather King Jaehaerys. A woodswitch prophesied him that a prince shall be born from his line destined to bring eternal spring.

For many years Rhaegar believed himself to be this promised prince, but in all these visions he never appeared as a savior. No, his dreams never promised salvation, only death, though the way of his death was always changing. Only one thing remained the same. In every one of his dreams the world was covered in a thick blanket of snow and every time he beheld the maid of winter, a crown of blue flowers resting atop her head, though her face remained blurred.

 _Mayhaps the trees will speak to me again_ , he prayed and moved his paddle, urging the boat towards the grey stone steps descending from the island into the water.

“I once read that rain is a blessing of the old gods,” Rhaegar replied as he took in the massive trees swaying in the wind. Their barks were white as snow and their leaves glittered like rubies. The grotesque faces engraved in the bark of the trees made him think of Lady Lyanna’s shield. Just thinking about her angry pout sped up his heartbeat.

_Have I finally found what I have been seeking for all these years?_

Rhaegar felt it beneath his skin, but Arthur didn’t seem to share his excitement. He sighed deeply and climbed out of the boat. Then he fastened the boat and started to rub his shoulders.

The icy touch of the wind made him shudder, but maybe that was just another blessing of these ancient gods.

“Aren’t you cold?” Arthur asked him and snapped him out of his thoughts.

“It is cold, but that is not important,” he confirmed and fastened his cloak around his shoulders, before climbing up the stone steps, leading towards a clearing. Hundreds of weirwood trees greeted him there, their empty eyes staring back at him as he stepped inside the clearing. Left and right, fallen stones, flowers and thick foliage littered his path.

Arthur came to stand next to him and frowned.

“I never understood why anyone would carve such ugly faces,” Arthur remarked.

“They say the Children of the Forest carved these faces,” Rhaegar explained and cited from one of his favorite books. ”The followers of the Old Gods came to these places to celebrated birth, marriage and death. They also say that one should lower one’s voice in the presence of the gods.”

“I see,” Arthur whispered and shrugged his shoulders. ”What now, my Prince?”

Rhaegar graced his old friend with an amused smile and started to pull off his boots.

“Don’t give me this strange look,” Rhaegar chided Arthur. ”I am not mad. Now wait here and let me seek out the gods.”

Arthur frowned, but didn’t stop him as he stepped towards one of the larger trees. Rhaegar’s heartbeat quickened as he smoothed his hands over the white bark. The last time he came here to read and fell asleep beneath this very tree.

“Grant me you blessings,” he whispered and sat down beneath the tree. Then he closed his eyes and started to listen to the rustling of the wind.

He didn’t know how it happened, but when he opened his eyes again he found himself in an unfamiliar place. The bright sunlight blinded him momentarily and Rhaegar instinctively pulled up his arm to shield himself.

He stood atop a massive wall of ice, the world beneath him a motely of grey and white. The cold wind numbed his face, as he walked along the wall of ice, trying to make sense of this vision. The never felt this real.

 _The Wall_ , he believed and stopped abruptly as he noticed the presence of another person. His back was turned to him, but his stature told him that the man was still quite young. His dyed cloak also told him that the young man didn’t belong to the Night’s Watch. No man of the Night’s Watch would dare to wear a crimson cloak.

“Is this the Wall?” he asked the young man in a quiet voice. He didn’t want to disturb him with his sudden appearance.

The young man didn’t speak. Ever slowly, he turned around and revealed a long pale face, framed by brown hair. It was a wolf-face, a Stark face that greeted him, yet it were those eyes that startled him. Dark eyes. His own eyes.

“Who are you?” he asked the boy, but received no answer as the world around him started to shake. He heard the distant sound of a horn and a loud shriek made his ears bleed. He stumbled backwards and hit the ground, but managed to sit up. He didn’t believe his eyes when he saw the massive blue dragon.

Rhaegar wasn’t even able to cry out, before the dragon opened his mouth and unleashed a sea of blue flames. He braced himself for the pain, but it never came.

His breathing was labored when he opened his eyes and found himself sitting beneath the weirwood tree.

Arthur was also there, a wry smile curling on his lips.

“What did you see?”

Rhaegar couldn’t speak. The dream was still too vivid, too much to be put into words.

Running a hand over his face, he rose back to his feet and smoothed the dirt from his cloak.

It helped him to regain his composure.

Then he shifted his attention back to Arthur and smiled, though he was still shaken by this strange vision.

Sitting atop a branch he spotted a flock of crows, watching them with their tiny black eyes.

Rhaegar ignored them and tried to explain what he saw.

“I saw…I saw an Ice Dragon.”

…


	10. Elia

**Elia**

She read both fear and surprise on Rhaegar’s face. She had been waiting here for hours, but it would be worth the effort if it meant to find out about Rhaenys' well-being. Her husband would surely chide her for this. He fretted day and night about her health. So much that he consulted more than a dozen of Maesters to attend to her. Elia found it more a bother than help, but not long ago she realized that this was Baelor's way of showing his affection for her and thus she slowly came to appreciate the constant presence of a capable Maester. Yet it was not hard to compete with Maester Pycelle, the very man she blamed for the death of her son, Prince Aegon.

“Elia,” Rhaegar greeted her in his usual solemn voice. He didn’t smile nor did he look displeased, but that was no surprise to her. They hadn’t been married for long, but even his Lady Mother Queen Rhaella admitted to Elia more than once that she had a hard time understanding her son’s thoughts. Elia had her own thoughts on the matter. Unreadable and not made for smiles. That is how she would describe Rhaegar’s face. ”I am surprised you came here...with my father and all…,” he trailed off and shrugged off his wet cloak.

“I came to see my daughter,” she admitted and fastened her cloak around her shoulders. The cold and wet weather of Harrenhall didn’t suit her. While Oldtown was not as warm as Dorne it was more pleasant than this cursed place. Rhaegar might find beauty in old haunted ruins, but Elia could never find it in herself to share his love for the past. Yes, that was what was differentiated them. Rhaegar lived in the past and studied his dusty scrolls while Elia preferred to face the future. ”Does that surprise you?”

“No,” he replied quietly and knelt down before the hearth to stir the flames. ”It doesn’t surprise me, but Rhaenys isn’t here.”

She shrugged her shoulders and stepped towards the hearth. The fire grew and grew, but failed to warm her.

“You should have brought a warmer cloak,” he remarked, obviously lacking the right words. This was the first time they spoke each other in private since the annulment of their marriage. ”It will only get colder. The false spring the Maesters call it.”

“So I heard,” she confirmed and met his sad gaze. She never saw him weep for Aegon’s loss, but then Rhaegar hardly ever showed such emotions openly. They were buried deep down in a dark corridor of his mind to be hidden away from the world and his Lord Father. _I can never show weakness in front of the King_ , he had told her after an argument about the matter. ”The Maesters of Oldtown like to talk about the weather. I expected that Rhaenys wouldn't be here. I still came here, because I want to know where she is.”

Rhaegar exhaled deeply and rose back to his feet. He looked conflicted as if he wasn’t sure on how to deal with this situation.

“I haven’t seen Rhaenys for six moons,” he admitted quietly and sat down in the armchair placed before the hearth. ”But I know where she is…in Driftmark. My father placed her under the protection of Lord Lucerys Velaryon. His younger brother Monford keeps me informed about her well-being.”

“It doesn’t surprise me that the King chose his most loyal lapdog for this task,” Elia remarked and didn’t hide her bitterness. ”Well, what are you going to do about it? Are you still spinning your plans?”

He nodded his head, his silver hair falling over his shoulder like a shroud of moonlight. His face was grim and his brows furrowed. She supposed her words hit a wound point.

“This tourney should have marked the end of my father’s rule,” he said and met her gaze. ”But my plans were foiled again. Now I am back at the beginning. In regards to Rhaenys, I intend to free her once I have the support I need. Tell that your brother Prince Doran.”

“I fear that would be of no use,” she explained plainly. To lie about this matter wouldn’t serve them. ”My brother is a man of calm demeanour, but that doesn’t mean he can’t hold a grudge. He took your father’s actions personally, but I doubt that surprises you. I suppose now you are searching for a new bride, aren’t you?”

He started at her in silence, which only helped to confirm her suspicions.

“How do you know?” he asked her, his voice laced with a hint of surprise.

“It is a rather obvious conclusion. Your father had our marriage annulled, because Grand Maester Pycelle declared me barren…”

Rhaegar swallowed hard and averted his gaze.

“Pycelle will be punished,” he promised, but still avoided to meet her gaze.

“Pycelle killed our son,” she countered and gave him the hard truth. She had no proof for this, but she always knew that there was something suspicious about this man. She was able to observe the Queen’s last pregnancy. The Queen was neither sick nor did she show any signs of discomfort, but three moons along she suddenly started to bleed heavily. Throughout these three moons the Queen had resided with Elia on Dragonstone and was in the care of another Maester. Only after she returned in the care of the Grand Maester occurred this fateful incident. Elia always found the incident rather suspicious and felt great shame for not bringing it up early. Not that it would have mattered. The King would have cursed her for making such accusations against one of his favourites. “I am sure of it.”

Rhaegar’s eyes widened a little, but he remained seated and grew very still.

Anger glinted in his eyes and his hand tightened on the handle of his chair, turning his knuckles white.

Rhaegar’s anger could be terrible to behold, but she saw it brimming behind his icy façade like a volcano ready to burst forward.

“Elia,” he said met her gaze. ”Do you really think Tywin would dare to commit such heinous treachery? He may be ruthless, but he is not someone who takes unnecessary risks.”

“I only know this. My son was healthy and a day later he died. I also doubt I was his only victim. Your Lady mother lost all her children, Prince Viserys being the only exception or perhaps he was allowed to live to avoid suspicions. The same goes for Rhaenys…I am sure he would have killed her too if she was a boy,” she emptied her heart. ”Tywin hates your father. What better way to hurt him than to kill his children?”

Rhaegar had listened in silence and nodded his head.

“And Aegon,” he said in a subdued voice. ”He had to die to get rid of you.”

“Yes,” she confirmed bitterly. ”To give Cersei Lannister a crown…”

“I won’t wed Cersei Lannister if that is what you fear,” he told after a moment of silence had passed, but avoided the topic at hand.

Elia sighed in frustration.

“I don’t envy your future bride,” she countered. ”And I only have two demands: I want Pycelle’s head and my daughter. I also came to warn you about Pycelle. Keep him away from our daughter, from your future bride and most importantly…keep him away from your Lady Mother. The gods know she lost enough children.”

Rhaegar nodded his head in acknowledgement.

“Your warning is noted.”

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In regards to Pycelle: He is a double-spy. The Mad King thinks he is spying for him on Tywin while he is actually working for Tywin. Tywin allows Pycelle to give Aerys secrets to make Aerys believe that Pycelle is loyal to him, which is not hard since the Mad King is, well mad.


	11. Benjen

Benjen watched as Lyanna drowned her third cup of watered wine. It was so unlike her, but he supposed it had to do with the large blue bruise on her shoulder. She showed him her wound only briefly, but it looked rather painful.

“You need to see a Maester,” he whispered into her ear and promptly received a slap on the head.

“Are you stupid?” she asked and gritted her teeth as she whispered her answer into his ear. ”The King sent the fucking Crown Prince after me. My secret would be out within a day.”

“I heard you,” Benjen muttered his reply and rubbed his head. ”I was just trying to be helpful.”

“Then be silent,” she replied and winced in pain. ”Your waffling is making my head squirm.”

Benjen frowned and averted his gaze. Lya could be a pain in the ass if she was angry.

“You look rather pale, my Lady Lyanna,” Catelyn Tully remarked softly from the other side of the table. She was one of the prettiest girls Benjen had ever laid eyes on. Her skin was as pale as snow and her hair red like the leaves of a weirwood tree. No wonder Bran fought for her hand in marriage. She was a girl worth fighting for.

Lyanna grimaced and forced a smile over her lips.

“I feel rather sick,” Lyanna explained politely and rose to her feet. ”I think I will return to my bed.”

“Oh, that is a shame,” Lady Catelyn said and smiled warmly. ”Brandon wanted us all there to cheer for him. He is riding against the Crown Prince. It will be a great spectacle.”

“So I heard,” Lyanna replied and winced. ”But I don’t think my brother has need of my support. He was always a lucky bastard. I wish you a pleasant evening, my Lady.”

Then she sipped away and left behind a stunned Catelyn Tully. Benjen doubted his brother’s soft-hearted jady ever heard such crude speech like “bastard” from another lady’s mouth.

“My sister is rather outspoken,” Benjen added. ”Forgive her.”

Lady Catelyn nodded her head in understanding and graced Benjen with a warm smile.

“What about you, my young Lord?” she inquired then and jerked her head at her younger sister Lysa, who had observed the exchange with rapt attention. She was quite pretty, but very shy. ”Lysa would appreciate your company. I wanted to ask your other brother to joins us, but I saw him disappear in company of a Lady.”

Ben stared at her in disbelief.

“Ned disappeared with a lady?”

“I think so,” she confirmed. ”Ask your brother Brandon. He can confirm it to you. Now tell me…Are you coming?”

Ben eyed Lysa, who promptly averted her gaze.

She doesn’t like me, he knew at once, but it wasn’t like he had anything better to do. Lya was moody and Ned was running around with a lady.

“I am coming, my Lady,” he confirmed at last and offered his arm to the quiet Tully sister. She didn’t speak as she took his arm and together they made their way to their seats, where Robert Baratheon awaited them.

He looked disappointed when he noticed Lyanna’s absence, but he  gave Benjen a bashful smile when he noticed Lysa.

“Ah, what a sight!” he japed and patted Benjen’s shoulder.”Maybe there will be a double wedding, eh?”

Benjen blushed when he realized what Lord Robert meant. Besides, it was utter nonsense. Benjen was a third son and even he heard that Lord Hoster intends to wed Lady Lysa to Elbert Arryn.

“I…,” he stuttered, but Lord Robert had already forgotten about the matter and greeted Lady Catelyn. He even kissed her hand and remarked how lucky Brandon is to name her his betrothed

“That is most kind of you, my Lord,” the Lady replied softly and blushed deeply. ”I am also thankful.”

By then Lysa had entangled herself from his arm and was staring at the empty tiltyard.

She hates me, he was convinced, but tried to ignore it, which was not hard since Lord Robert started to needle him questions about Lya’s absence.

“My sister is not feeling well,” he explained. ”She returned to bed, but she assured me that she will join us for supper. I hope you can forgive her, my Lord."

“No need for that!” Robert Baratheon assured him and laughed. Then he jerked his head at the tiltyard. ”But it is a shame that your sister can’t be here to see Brandon knock that royal prick form his horse.”

The air was heavy with anticipation as the two opponents appeared to test their mettle. Brandon looked glorious in his polished armour and the pale silken cloth draped around his shoulders, but he couldn’t compare to the Crown Prince. His armour was black like onyx and his crimson cloak was as bright as the sunrise. Even Lysa allowed a gasp to leave her rosy lips.

“Beautiful…,” he heard her whisper while Benjen’s gaze was fixed at the Crown Prince and his brother.

The horn was sounded and soon the world around him was filled with the sound of rolling thunder.

Benjen held his breath as the riders met in the middle. The lances broke, but both riders remained seated. It was not even close, which promised an exciting match.

The onlookers seemed to share his opinion. Even in the distance he heard their cheers. Among them was Robert, but Benjen was too occupied with the spectacle than to pay attention to what he was saying.

He didn’t even care about the outcome of the match. He was simply excited to be here, to be able to behold this exciting spectacle.

Again the horn was sounded and again the sound of horse hooves filled the air. The riders met in the middle, but this time Brandon proved a heartbeat quicker than the Prince. With a quick motion Brandon trusted his lance forward and slammed it hard into the Prince’s chest.

Benjen heard the fearful gasps of the ladies and the rumbling laughter of Lord Robert, but it was no use. Brandon was so close to win this match, but the Prince remained seated and earned himself a round of cheers from the crowd as he led his horse back to his position at the other end of the yard.

You can do it, he cheered for Brandon and twitched nervously. Yet it was no use. This time the Prince proved quicker than his brother. He trusted his lance so quickly that Bran was barely able to react. In the matter of a heartbeat his brother was thrown from his saddle and landed in the sand below.

It didn’t take long, before Bran was back on his feet, but this match belonged to Prince Rhaegar.

“Serves your brother right,” Lysa whispered softly. ”He deserves a taste of his own medicine.”

Benjen didn’t know what to make of her words, but he noticed the tears shining in her eyes.

 _She looks so sad_ , he thought, but decided to ignore it. _I doubt Lady Lysa would appreciate it if I questioned her about it._

Bran joined them not long after his lost match and was promptly attended to by Lady Catelyn. Bran seemed to enjoy the attention and was soon whispering into her ear and playing with her red locks.

Now and then, Lord Robert added something and made them laugh, but all in all, the rest of the evening proved rather boring.

Only when Lord Reed joined him lightened his mood.

“Where is our champion?” he asked in a playful manner.

“Suffering,” Benjen replied quietly and led him away from the ever quiet Lysa Tully. ”Her shoulder ails her.”

Worry washed over Lord Reed’s face.

“I could gather herbs to make a paste. I am no Maester, but it might help to ease the pain.”

Benjen beamed.

“Oh, that is a good idea!” he exclaimed and felt a hint of relief. He wouldn’t be able to endure Lya’s suffering. ”I thank you, my Lord.”

“No need,” Lord Reed assured him and together they stumbled through a flock of ladies. Pink, red, green silk made his eyes burn and the flowery smell of perfume met his nose.

“You boy!” someone shouted after him. ”Stop…I need to speak to you.”

Benjen turned around and found a young man standing here. He was garbed in a black cloak, a three-headed dragon embellished on his vest.

“I am not your boy!” Benjen corrected him. ”I am Benjen Stark, son of Lord Rickard Stark, the Warden of the North. Mind your manners.”

The young man paled and lowered his head.

“Forgive my manners, but I am in haste. My Prince bids you come to his tent, my young Lord.”

 _The Prince_ , Benjen thought fearfully. _Why would the Prince wish for my presence?_

He swallowed hard and gathered his courage.

“Very well, then lead the way,” he replied and gave Lord Reed an apologetic smile. ”I will see the Prince at once.”

Benjen felt a hint of apprehension when he entered the spacious tent, though the interior proved rather plain.

He expected something extravagant, but only found a simple bed, a wooden table stacked with books and several burned-down candles.

It didn’t look at all like the tent of a Prince.

“Benjen Stark,” an unfamiliar voice snapped him out of his reverie. It was Prince Rhaegar, who eyed him with his narrowed dark eyes. Benjen hadn’t even noticed his presence until now. ”I thank you for coming here.”

Benjen immediately dropped his head and reminded himself of his manners.

“It is an honour to be here, my Prince,” he declared and avoided his gaze. ”Forgive my lack of manners.”

“No need,” Prince Rhaegar assured him and even smiled. Benjen didn’t know why, but even his smile looked sad. ”I didn’t call you here to exchange formalities, but to inquire about your sister. I didn’t see her in your company….Is her shoulder ailing her?”

Benjen felt as if someone kicked him in the balls.

Hesitatingly, he met the Prince’s dark gaze and forced a smile over his lips.

“My sister is well,” he assured the Prince. ”There is no need to fret about her.”

The Prince shook his head and rose to his feet to retrieve two cups. Then he filled them to the brim and handed one to Benjen, before taking a seat at the nearby table.

“Come here, my young Lord,” the Prince said and patted at the empty seat next to him. ”Sit down and let us speak. I mean your sister no harm. I am a friend.”

He took the cup and sat down. _Lya will kill me, but I can hardly refuse the Crown Prince._

“How is your sister?” The Prince inquired again.

Benjen exhaled deeply and gave him the truth.

“Her arm ails her…I told her to see a Maester to get milk of the poppy, but she fears the King might find out about her mummery.”

“Milk of the poppy she shall have,” the Prince assured him quickly, but looked rather hesitant to continue with his questioning. ”But there is something else I want to know. I heard your father is planning to wed your sister to Robert Baratheon. Is that true?”

“I suppose…it is not official yet, but that is the plan,” Benjen replied, unable to make sense of these strange questions.

The Prince nodded his head in understanding and lifted his cup. He took a quick sip, before he shifted his attention back to Benjen.

“And your sister,” the Prince said hesitatingly. ”Is she very fond of Lord Baratheon?”

“My sister…she is…,” he began, but the Prince’s piercing gaze made it hard to lie. ”No, she is not very fond of him. Does that satisfy your curiosity, my Prince?”

“And what do you think about the match, my young Lord?”

“Lya will be the Lady of the Stormlands,” he answered and shrugged his shoulders. ”At least that is what my Lord Father wants.”

“It is understandable that your Lord Father wants a good match for your sister,” the Prince agreed and tapped his fingers on the table. ”Do you think he would agree to a better match?”

Benjen didn’t know what to make of the Prince’s question, but nodded his head in affirmation. He didn’t want to appear a fool.

“I suppose.”

“Wonderful,” the Prince said and smiled. ”And now we will get your sister something to ease her pain.”

…


	12. Ashara

**Ashara**

Ashara noted Eddard’s staggering gait, but didn’t dare to ask him about it. They hardly knew each other, though they had spent the whole evening speaking about their families and lives. She was sure that he received this wound during the melee, but she wasn’t there to pay witness to the competition. She never held much interest in such mock battles. War was something distant and terrible, something that should be avoided at all costs. Some men might crave the thrill of battle and some women might even be proud of their warrior husbands, but Ashara was not such a woman. She preferred a man that didn’t leave her with a swaddling babe to die a hero’s death.

Yet she still had to find out to which kind of men Eddard Stark belonged to.

“The fair is lovely,” she remarked as they made their way through the bustling crowd. Not only was there a tourney held in Harrenhall, but also a fair. Outside the gates, hundreds of merchants gathered and erected their stalls, selling pies and honeyed wine to the passing crowd. There were also jugglers who entertained the onlookers with their skill, minstrels that performed their songs and dancing bears that made the crowd laugh.

Ashara always loved these kinds of spectacles, even more so than the tourney itself, but Eddard Stark eyed everything around him in awe. It seemed as if this was the first time he beheld such a spectacle.

“It is certainly lively here,” he replied and graced her with a hesitant smile. ”It is just…we don’t have these kind of spectacles in the North.”

“I see,” she said and nodded her head in understanding. ”What about the Eyrie? I admit…I have yet to visit this place, but I thought the people of the Vale would enjoy such diversions.”

“They do,” he confirmed and reached out to take her hand, albeit in a shyly manner. ”But I never have the chance to attend one.”

Her heart lightened when she heard this.

She smiled sweetly and squeezed his hand.

“And do you enjoy it, my Lord?”

He blushed and nodded his head.

“I do,” he answered at last and caressed her wrist. ”But I am not used to so much festivity. I prefer quiet places.”

She understood what he was trying to say. She felt the same way.

“Then you should come and visit Starfall,” she offered maybe a bit too openly. ”It is a lovely castle, but very quiet. It takes several days to reach the next town.”

He stared at her in disbelief.

“I doubt your Lord Father would like that…,” he muttered, but Ashara shook her head.

“On the contrary,” she told him and gave him an assuring smile. ”My Lord Father would be very pleased about this…”

“I see,” Eddard Stark mumbled and blushed. ”But I first need to acquire my father’s permission. I am not betrothed, but you might have heard of Brandon’s betrothal to Lady Catelyn Tully and the impending betrothal of my sister to Lord Robert Baratheon. He has grand plans for our family, but I don’t know what he intends for me. I will write to him _immediately_ after the tourney.”

Ashara’s hopes were tempered by this answer, but she should have expected it beforehand. And yet her heart skipped a beat when she noted the hint of determination glinting in his eyes when he said the last part.

_Maybe he is more than just the quiet wolf?_

The thought excited her and she led him along several brightly-colored stalls towards the small forest. High above the tree tops stood the sun, the sky cast in a bloody glimmer. Only a handful of stars glinted at the distant horizon.

“It is almost dusk…we should return…,” Eddard Stark remarked, but she had other plans and leaned closer to silence him by holding her finger to his mouth.

“A moment,” she told him and pointed at the sky. ”Can you see this star glimmering at the distant horizon? In Starfall you can see this star only at dawn. When I was a little girl my Lady Mother used to tell me that this star belongs to our house. Thus we call this star Dawn, like the sword my brother wields. When you get back to the Eyrie you only have to look at the star and think of me. I won’t begrudge your father if he forbids our courtship, but know that I enjoyed the time we had,” she added softly and leaned down to place a kiss on his cheek.

He stopped her when she wanted to pull away and stared at her for a moment long time, hesitant and torn on what to do next, but then he forgot his fear and leaned down to kiss her. It was a chaste kiss that didn’t last longer than the blink of a moment, but she was sure it took him a great amount of courage to do it.

She smiled at him and patted his cheek to break the silence that had settled over them.

“Now we can return,” she told him cheekily, but Eddard Stark seemed unwilling to comply. It looked as if she had cast a spell on him and it took a long time before he finally registered what she had said.

“Of course,” he agreed and exhaled deeply. ”We need to return. My brother is waiting for me.”

“And Princess Elia is waiting for me,” she replied quietly. ”She plans to leave on the morrow, but I will stay a while longer. Would that please you, my Lord?”

He smiled and squeezed her hand again.

“Nothing would please me more, my Lady.”

**…**


	13. Rhaegar

**Rhaegar**

Arthur was a heartbeat slower and it was all the time Rhaegar needed to exploit his mistake. He straightened himself and rammed his lance in Arthur’s chest, throwing him out of his saddle.

The clapping of the crowd didn’t concern him when he wheeled his horse around to get a glimpse at Arthur. He lay sprawled on the ground, his white cloak covered with red sand.

“A good hit,” Arthur complimented, but Rhaegar was skeptical. Rhaegar was the better rider, but it wouldn’t surprise him if Arthur allowed him to win this match. ”Now go and pick a girl.”

Rhaegar knew what he was really trying to say. _Go and choose a bride._

 _ _The wild she-wolf might just throw the crown back at me_ , _he mused and led his horse back to his squire. The boy was a nephew of Lord Willam Darry, a timid but capable boy. Quickly his squire took his helmet and Rhaegar wetted his lips. The day was unnaturally hot and his lips felt dry.

“Do you have further need of me, my Prince?” the boy asked him in a timid manner. Rhaegar flashed him a quick smile and rode away.

He made his choice a day ago, but that didn’t help to ease his fears. His father the King was a man with an unpredictable temper. He allowed him to choose, but that didn't mean his choice would please him.

He also needed to take in consideration that this would win him the enmity of Robert Baratheon.

 _That is the way of the game_ , he reminded himself and grasped the flower crown from Lord Whent’s hand. It was a beautiful piece of art, a twisted wreath of blue roses as bright as frost.

Exhaling deeply, he wheeled his horse around and led it along the painted balustrade. Lyanna Stark sat at the lowest rank, flanked by her two brothers. The one seated at the right side was named Eddard Stark, Lady Ashara’s admirer or so Arthur had informed him. The one seated at the left side was her oldest brother, Brandon Stark, who carried a dark look when he noticed Rhaegar’s approach. _I unhorsed him_ , he recalled then and shifted his attention to Lady Lyanna Lyanna.

She eyed him with a mixture of curiosity and surprise.

A gallant knight like Ser Arthur would have smiled at her, but smiles never came easy to Rhaegar, though he felt a surge of warmth spreading over his body whenever he laid eyes on the girl hailing from the icy North. It felt as if she had cast a spell on him that night he found her trying to hide away the evidence of her mummery. His first wife was a sun-kissed beauty from Dorne, but theirs was a marriage of duty and her fragile disposition made it only harder for them to please his father the King. The death of Aegon was only the last straw in a number of terrible incidents, but what Elia told him only helped to complicate the situation. He believed Elia, but it wouldn’t be easy to get rid of Pycelle without angering the King

Lyanna Stark was also a beauty, but it was not her pale unblemished skin or her lustrous brown locks that lured him, but something different.

It was her unabashed honesty that fascinated him. Nobody at court would dare to call him mad, but this girl did the unthinkable.

The dreams given to him by the gods only reinforced his belief. The boy had the features of a Stark, but the eyes of a dragon. _Rhaegar’s eyes_.

Ever slowly, he urged his horse forward, coming to stand before the wooden balustrade. Then he leaned down and threw the crown in her lap.

The crowd cheered, but Brandon Stark flashed him a murderous look. He cared little, but he was used to worse. He endured his father’s sneers throughout half his life.

Only briefly he allowed himself to look at Lady Lyanna, to gauge her reaction. Her almond-shaped eyes were widened in shock as she lifted the crown in her lap.

Then he wheeled his horse around and returned to his squire.

Ser Barristan lingered at the entrance when he entered the King’s chambers.

His Lord Father grouched in an old armchair, next to the cackling fire. He always liked to sit close to the hearth, the swirling flames nearly touching his long untidy hair.

“About time!” his Lord Father snapped and waved his hand. Rhaegar would have preferred to keep his distance, but his father continued to wave his hand. ”Come closer, boy.”

“You chose the Stark girl,” he remarked and gave Rhaegar a calculating look. ”Lord Varys informed me about Rickard Stark’s ambitions to pair his daughter with Robert Baratheon. Well, it seems his plans will be thwarted. I am very pleased, my son.”

Rhaegar felt like slapped. This was the first time in years that his Lord Father praised him.

“I thank you, your Grace,” he replied after a long moment of silence had passed between them.

“You shall inform her tonight,” his father added, a smile curling on his thin pale lips. ”The marriage will take place within a three moons. It would be best if we take the girl with us to King’s Landing. This should give your mother enough time to educate her in her duties.”

Rhaegar was pleased to receive his father’s approval, but he doubted Lady Lyanna would be pleased to be taken away from her family like this.

“Why the haste?” Rhaegar asked carefully.

“I want a grandson,” his father snarled and tightened his grip on the handle of his chair.

“The marriage will take place within a moon. You will put a son in her…there will be no more failures. Is that understood?”

Rhaegar knew there was no point in protesting the King's command.

 _The visions don’t lie_ , he reminded himself and brushed his doubts away. _And in time she might even come to love me._

“I will do as you say, your Grace.”

…


	14. Lyanna

**Lyanna**

Lyanna’s gaze rested on the crown placed on the table before her. She didn’t dare to place it on her head nor was she unable to understand why the Prince crowned her.

_Queen of Love and Beauty_ , she mused and her gaze fell promptly on her brother and his Lady Ashara Dayne. _I am not that pretty._

They whispered, a bright smile curling on Lady Ashara’s lips. She was a tall woman, her pale skin framed by dark hair that fell around her shoulders like a shiny shroud of ink.

Lyanna was surprised that Bran didn’t pursue her himself.

_Is this Lady Catelyn’s influence speaking_ , she wondered and watched Bran as he emptied another cup of wine.

He was still angered by the Prince’s actions. Not that Lyanna cared.

She liked the flowers. Winter roses her favorite flowers, though she didn’t know how the Prince found out about her liking.

“You should have flung the _damn crown_ back at him!” Robert remarked in a slurred voice.

“You are speaking about the Crown Prince!" Ned reminded Robert and gave him a warning look. ”Calm your temper, old friend. It was a nice gesture…that is all. Lyanna could hardly refuse. The King was there, watching her. To insult his son would mean to insult the King.”

“Fuck this, Ned!” Robert snapped back, his face deeply flushed. Not even Ned’s calming presence was able to calm Robert’s wrath. ”She is my betrothed!”

_Nothing is offical_ , Lyanna wanted to add, but kept her mouth shut. It seemed the Milk of the Poppy helped to calm her quick temper. At least it helped to ease the pain in her shoulder, though it was still a mystery to her how Ben was able to get it.

_I will ask Robert to make Ben his squire_ , she decided right there. He was so kind to her when she only had cold words for him.

“Calm your voice!” Ned reminded Robert again as he continued his ranting. ”The King could take our heads!”

“Fuck this madman!” Robert snarled, but stopped abruptly, his gaze darting off in the distance. ”I…”

Lyanna knew the reason when she spotted the approach of the Prince and two members of the Kingsguard. One was an elderly man with a stern face and the other Ser Arthur Dayne, the Prince’s companion.

The Prince didn’t smile as he lowered his head to greet her brother Brandon. He was after all the head of House Stark in her Lord Father’s absence.

“What can we do for you, my Prince?” her brother inquired boldly, an amused smile playing on his lips.

Lyanna didn’t know what to make of this. Ned sat as tight as a bowstring and Robert Baratheon’s face reminded her of a lobster.

“I came to speak to you, Lord Stark,” Prince Rhaegar declared politely, his dark eyes meeting hers for a brief moment, before flickering back to her brother Bran.

“What about?” Brandon asked in a flippant manner. Ned paled and nearly dropped from his chair. Lyanna felt the urge to kick Bran, but that was hardly appropriate. Robert found Bran’s behavior amusing and laughed while Bran remained utterly silent. Even Lady Ashara, though she was familiar with the Prince’s family, looked rather pale.

If the Prince was insulted it didn’t show on his face. He remained polite as ever.

“I came to ask for your sister’s hand in marriage,” the Prince declared without much bravado and angled his head to look at her.

_Seven hells!_

She simply stared back at him, her mouth closing and opening, no sound leaving her mouth.

_When did I turn into a dimwit like our King?_

Bran used the moment to speak.

“My sister,” he said and pointed at her. ”My father intends to wed her to Robert Baratheon.”

“I am aware of this,” the Prince replied calmly. ”But my father, your King, also wishes for a match between myself and your sister.”

“Does he?” Bran asked mockingly. ”Well, it is for my father to decide….,” he continued, but the Prince cut him off, a hint of irritation apparent on his even-shaved face.

“It’s the King’s command and what I am offering you is to make your sister my future Queen.”

Lyanna was half a child, but even she understood what the King’s command meant. A refusal would mean to insult a madman, who sent his son to haunt a silly knight.

“Stop it, brother,” she admonished her brother, though she wanted to give the Prince a piece of her mind. She tried to avoid meeting the Prince’s gaze to give the appearance of a lady. She felt like a mummer, but was proud of herself when she managed a calming smile. ”I am sure the Prince intends to inform our father.”

“A raven is already underway,” Prince Rhaegar confirmed quickly and graced her with a brief nod.

Bran’s was stunned by her answer.

“You agree to this?” he asked, but was interrupted by Robert Baratheon’s loud protest. The color of his eyes reminded her of a raging storm.

“You heard Brandon Stark! I came first…find yourself another bride. Lyanna is mine.”

_I am not_ , she wanted to shout and balled her fists. _I am neither yours nor his._

Ned was quick on his feet and barely managed to grab Robert’s arm.

He struggled, but Ned had no intention to let go.

“I fear I cannot, my Lord,” Prince Rhaegar replied politely. His gaze was unreadable, an impenetrable mask.”As I said before…it is the King’s command.”

“The King’s command my ass!” Robert roared and flashed Prince Rhaegar a challenging look. ”Tell him…,” he continued, but Ned cut in.

“Robert! This is madness!” Ned shouted, ripped off Robert’s cloak and stumbled backwards only to land on his ass. It was getting ridiculous and Lyanna was beginning to grind her teeth together to calm her rising anger. Robert finally stopped his shouting, but it didn’t look as if he had any intention to give up. He even ignored Ned, who was tended to by Lady Ashara. He had only eyes for the Prince.

“Fight me!” Robert demanded and flashed the Prince a mocking smile. ”You against me…All I need is my hammer.”

It was the last straw. Lyanna had enough of playing the obedient lady, though her heart nearly threatened to jump out of her chest as she rose to her feet.

“There will be no fighting!” she snapped at Robert and met his gaze. ”I am not yours! I was never yours! My Lord Father might think differently, but I am done with this silly mummery!”

No word left Robert Baratheon’s mouth as she turned around to flash Prince Rhaegar a piercing look.

“The same goes for you!” she snapped and raised her chin. ”I will do as you ask, but only to satisfy your father’s demand. I am not yours. I will never be yours. No one commands me.”

Her breathing was labored as she stared back at the Prince, waiting for his answer.

Ned and Bran used the moment to drag Robert out of the room. Behind her she heard his angry protests that were soon silenced by Lady Ashara’s calming voice.

“I will leave you as well. A good day,” she said and closed the flap of the tent behind her.

The Prince swallowed hard as he met her gaze. Even his eyes told her nothing of his true thoughts. It was frustrating, though she felt great satisfaction. It felt good that she was finally able to speak her mind. It felt as if she claimed victory if only for herself.

“I didn’t mean to insult you, my Lady,” the Prince said at last and lowered his head. ”I want no quarrels with your family, but I bid you to pack your belongings. My father expects you to travel with us to King’s Landing.”

“My sister goes nowhere without a personal guard and one of her ladies to keep her company,” Brandon added icily. ”Is that understood, my Prince?”

The Prince nodded his head and searched her gaze.

She looked away, but heard his answer.

“I understand, my Lord Stark.”

…


	15. Rhaegar

**Rhaegar**

A full moon smiled down at him and bathed the trees around in in silver moonlight. They had departed at dawn, but didn’t make it further than Darry where they crossed the river Trident near the rubyford. Lord Darry greeted them warmly, but his future bride still ignored him.

She even refused to sleep in the same castle and decided to erect her tent outside the gates, overlooking the rushing waters of the river. Lord Darry was shocked by her demand, but Rhaegar was able to calm him.

“Lady Lyanna’s reaction was not what you expected, did you, my Prince?” Arthur asked and graced Rhaegar with a knowing smile.

Arthur was right. Rhaegar didn’t expect her angry reaction, but then he should have anticipated the she-wolf’s temper given their first encounter. He should feel insulted by her harsh words, but he couldn’t help but to admire her for her directness.

Often enough Rhaegar imagined how it would feel give his father a piece of his mind, though it would be far too dangerous to stir a vicious troll like him into a rage. At least not as long as Rhaegar lacked the strength to do so. An army can be won with promises and marriage, but he needed more than that. Most of all he needed an heir. A rebellion was a dangerous endeavor and his supporters needed someone to rally around should he perish before achieving his goal.

“I should have spoken to her in person,” he admitted and met Arthur’s purple gaze. ”I realize that know.”

Arthur smiled wryly and patted his shoulder.

“Well, you can speak to her now. She is right over there in her tent.”

“I know that Arthur,” Rhaegar replied and exhaled deeply, before he made his way towards the tent. Brandon Stark granted his sister a dozen of guardsmen, who sat camped around a crackling fire, Lady Jorelle Flint, the only female person among these fearsome Northmen.

Surprise crossed Lady Flint’s face as she hopped to her feet to meet Rhaegar along the way.

“My Prince,” she inquired and dipped her head in greeting. ”Do you want me to inform Lady Lyanna of your presence?”

“Aye,” he confirmed and stopped. ”I would like to speak with her.”

“Of course, my Prince,” the young woman confirmed obediently slipped in the tent. Moments later Lyanna Stark emerged from the tent. She was clad in a blue dress, her dark riding boots apparent beneath the garment.

Her long pale face showed a blank expression and her grey eyes were filled with apprehension.

“Jorelle says you want to speak with me, my Prince,” she stated matter-of-factly and brushed her long hair over her shoulder. Unbraided her long brown locks nearly reached to her waist, a river of brown ringlets as wild and untamed as its owner.

Rhaegar steeled himself, his heart beating wildly within his chest as he moved towards her. Barely a foot away he stopped in his tracks. She was too close, the smell of lavender filling his nose. It was intoxicating.

“Lady Flint speaks true,” he confirmed. ”I would like to speak alone with you, my lady. I should have done that before…,” he began, but she cut him off.

“Before you proposed to my brother,” she said and jerked her head at the riverbed snaking its way through the distant forest. “Let us walk and speak.”

“Very well,” he said and sighed in relief. Lyanna nodded her head, her piercing grey eyes briefly fixed on her boots, before flickering back to him.

She didn’t take his arm. They walked side by side, silence stretching between them.

Rhaegar stopped when they had put a certain amount of distance between themselves and the camp.

“Why?” she demanded to know, before he was able to open his mouth. ”Why did you give me the crown? Why did you propose to me?”

Rhaegar regarded her in stunned silence. He doubted she wanted to hear about the visions granted to him by the Old Gods. Besides, there were many more reasons, some of them of political nature and others that went far deeper…

“The crown,” he repeated. ”I gave it to you, because…you deserve a reward for your brave deed. No other lady in the Seven Kingdoms would dare to dress up as knights to defend the honor of a friend. And my reasons for proposing to you are threefold. The first reason is…I need a bride. That should be obvious. The second reason is more complicated and I don’t think now is the right moment to speak about it. And the third reason, the most important one, I like you and I hoped you might come to like me as much as I like you. I didn’t mean to offend you, my Lady.”

She didn’t answer. She simply stared back at him in silence as his gaze took in her lovely features. Her cheeks were flushed and her rosy lips pursed.

“You didn’t offend me,” she told him at last and lifted her grey eyes. It looked as if all anger had left her. ”And you don’t think it was silly of me to dress up as a knight?”

He chuckled.

“Why would I?” he assured her softly and stepped closer. He could almost feel her warm breath brushing past his cheek. “There is another reason. I have never met a girl like you. I admire your spirit and bravery.”

“My bravery?” she asked almost softly, her grey eyes searching his face. ”Do you mean it?”

“Of course,” he confirmed and moved closer. Looking at her, Rhaegar wondered if she would hit him if he tried to kiss her hand. ”I mean it.”

“Then why did you not simply speak to me?” she asked, but didn’t move. She stood as firm as a tree rooted in the earth. ”That was also the reason for my anger. Robert Baratheon did the same. He saw me, wanted me and went straight to my father, demanding me as if I am some horse he can buy.”

Guilt filled his heart. _Gods, I was a fool._

“I can only ask for your forgiveness,” he declared and lowered his head.”What can I say? I simply thought it more appropriate to speak to your brother Lord Brandon. I also had your younger brother’s assurance that your match with Robert Baratheon is unwanted.”

“My brother…,” she stuttered, realization washing over her face. ”The milk of the Poppy…You gave it to Benjen, didn’t you?”

“I did,” he answered and held his breath, unsure if his actions pleased her or not. ”Did it help?”

“It did,” she confirmed quickly, almost shyly. A deep blush covered her cheeks and he noticed a hint of embarrassment. ”And I thank you, but still…I would have preferred to discuss this matter personally. It would have made things much easier and spared us much hardship.”

Rhaegar was no sure what to make of her words.

“Does that mean I have your forgiveness, my Lady?”

She fell silent and pondered his question for a brief moment, before giving answering his question.

“I think it would be better if we start from the beginning,” she suggested instead, a fleeting smile crossing her lips. Then she dropped a clumsy curtsy as if this was their very first meeting. ”My name is Lady Lyanna Stark. Well met, my Prince. Now it’s your turn to answer.”

He smiled and leaned down to kiss her hand. Then he straightened himself and graced her with an amused smile.

“My name is Prince Rhaegar Targaryen. Well met, my Lady.”

“Good,” she replied and grinned excitedly. It set his insides aflame, but he brushed these feelings aside if only to play along with her silly game. ”I heard you keep dragon skulls in the Red Keep? Is it true?”

The question surprised him.

“Aye, hundreds of them,” he replied replied quickly. ”It would be my pleasure to show them to you.”

“I heard you were betrothed to Robert Baratheon, my Lady?” he asked and pretended this was really their first meeting. ”What changed your circumstances?”

“I told the mighty stag that I hold no interest in him,” she replied cheekily.

“That surely angered the mighty stag,” he remarked jestingly. ”I heard Lord Baratheon is a very fearsome man.”

“Aye,” she confirmed. ”He has a mighty war hammer that could have smashed you to pieces, my Prince. He should be grateful…I saved his life.”

“I am very grateful,” he replied whispered and leaned closer to brush her hair away. A gust of wind had blown it right into her face. ”But you should not forget that I am also a dragon and dragons feed on stags, no matter how mighty they claim to be.”

She grabbed his hand and gave him a determined look. ”The same goes for wolves.”

...


	16. Rhaella

**Rhaella**

Her husband was in a particular good mood. He even allowed his servant to clad him in fresh clothing and took a hot bath. At first she thought her husband might be simply pleased that their son found a bride, but she should have known better than to think her husband shares other people’s happiness.

He thinks he destroyed Rickard Stark’s marriage plans, she knew and stepped closer towards the barbed chair once occupied by her father King Jaehaerys. Sometimes she still saw him sitting there, his pale face and his thin silver hair falling over his shoulders. She loved him dearly, but now she often found herself cursing him.

It was his command that led to her and Aerys’ marriage. She often wondered what he would think of Aerys.

 _He would have told me to do my duty_ , she was sure and came to stand before the steps, leading up to the throne.

Then she was finally able to lay eyes on her son’s bride. She was a thin girl, graced with a long pale face and wild brown hair. There was a wild beauty to her chipped face, but she was so very young. Elia, her son’s first bride was a fragile beauty and a year older than her son, but even she was unable to endure her husband’s bouts of madness.

_How will this child be able to endure it?_

“Come here wife,” her husband called for her in his usual commanding voice and waved his hand.

Rhaella felt like a dog and brushed her anger aside. It was the only way to face her husband without strangling him.

Only when her eyes fell on Rhaegar was she able to smile.

He stood straight as a rod, his eyes dark like shadows. She saw the hatred burning there as he regarded his father.

“I am pleased to see you again, my son,” she greeted Rhaegar and laced a kiss on his cheek.

Then she shifted her attention to her son’s young bride, clad in a grey travelling cloak. Her grey eyes widened when they met Rhaella’s gaze. Yet she found no fear, only curiosity.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, your Grace,” the girl greeted with a clear voice and dropped a curtsy. It was a bit clumsy, but Rhaella couldn’t blame her when her husband was staring at her.

“Come closer, girl!” he commanded and pointed his dirty finger at the girl. ”I can’t see you!”

A moment of silence passed as the girl moved closer. It was so eerily quiet one could have heard the dropping of a needle.

With gritted teeth the girl came to stand before the steps and met her husband’s gaze.

“Closer!” her husband snarled. ”Closer I say!”

The girl remained silent and climbed up the steps, before coming to stand before her husband.

“You are not very smart, are you?” her husband asked and took in her body. ”Well, you look stronger than the Dornish bitch. I want a grandson…that is the only reason you are here. Is that understood, girl?”

Rhaella saw only the left side of Lyanna Stark’s face, but her balled fists told her everything she needed to know about the girl’s feelings towards her husband.

“I understand my duties, your Grace,” she replied through clenched teeth and dipped her head. ”I do.”

Rhegar made use of the moment to rescue his bride from her husband’s scrutinizing gaze.

“Our travel was rather tiresome and we are in dire need of rest,” he explained. ”I hope you can forgive…,” he continued, but her husband cut him off.

“We have a fresh captive. I want you to attend the next council meeting in my stead,” her husband demanded and rubbed his hands. ”Give the womenfolk time to get to know each other. We both have our duties to attend to.”

Rhaella shuddered and knew what it meant. _My husband will soon grace me with his presence. As if last time wasn’t enough. Yet still no babe._

Rhaegar frowned darkly, but didn’t protest. He tried so many times in the past and it always ended in terrible fight.

“Very well,” he said and lowered his head in acceptance. ”I shall attend to my duties.”

Aerys frowned when he noticed her lingering presence.

“Did you hear what I said? You have a wedding to plan, wife.”

Rhaella nodded her head and dropped a quick curtsy, before following after her son and his bride. Ser Oswell and Ser Barristan followed after her, their ever vigilant shadows.

They were chosen to protect the King, but not her. They were good and dutiful men, but sometimes she couldn’t help but to resent them.

_Who protects me?_

…


	17. Lyanna

**Lyanna**

Lyanna watched in silence as Queen Rhaella cut the cake into smaller pieces. This close, she was even more beautiful, though Lyanna couldn’t help but to notice the blue bruises around her neck. It looked as if a violent animal attacked her.

_The King’s work_ , she was sure. _Who else would dare to touch a Queen in such a manner other than her husband?_

Even now she recalled the ghastly smell lingering around the King. It was a mixture of smoke and burned flesh. It was a terrifying smell.

Just thinking about it made her lose her appetite.

“It is a shame that Rhaegar was forced to leave so suddenly,” the Queen remarked in a quiet voice, her purple eyes taking Lyanna’s form. ”But these things happen. He has his duties to attend to.”

Lyanna didn’t mind. She hardly knew Rhaegar. She had warmed up to him after their last talk, but she had felt sickly since her departure from Harrenhall.

She dreaded her marriage with Robert, but at least in the Stormlands she would have been among friends, but here in King’s Landing she was even more of an outsider.

“I understand,” she replied politely and picked the piece of cake from the silver plate. It was a strange pie, made of reddish fruits unknown to Lyanna. “He is the Crown Prince.”

The Queen smiled warmly and leaned over to cover Lyanna’s hand with hers.

“I heard my son chose you,” the Queen remarked and graced Lyanna with a fleeing smile. ”You must have enchanted him with your beauty. You are a pretty girl.”

“Enchanted?” Lyanna asked and couldn’t help but to blush. “He crowned me Queen of Love and Beauty, but I don’t think it had anything to do with my beauty.”

Surprise showed on Queen Rhaella’s beautiful face.

“I see,” she said and pulled away her hand. “That could be true….My son was always rather secretive…it is hard to get through to him. Maybe you are luckier than me.”

Lyanna was stunned by this revelation. She saw his warm smile when his Lady Mother greeted him. It was hard to believe that the Prince wouldn’t bare his thoughts to this lovely woman. Lyanna felt the urge to do so, even though she didn’t know her more than a few hours.

“I am not sure,” Lyanna replied honestly. ”She didn’t want to start their relationship with lies. ”I hardly know him.”

“You will have plenty of time to get to know him,” the Queen informed her. ”After the wedding you will go to Dragonstone. My Lord Husband even promised to free Rhaegar from his duties.”

Lyanna couldn’t help but to frown. She doubted the King did it out of kindness, but to give her time to fulfill her duty.

Lyanna always liked children, but the King thought of her as nothing more than a broodmare. Just thinking about his sneer made her want to retch. She was close to burying her fingernails in his face.

“Until then you will spend most your time in my company,” the Queen added hesitatingly and graced her with another smile. “As I said…you will have mine and Viserys’ company.”

Viserys was the Prince’s younger brother, but Lyanna had yet to see a glimpse of him.

Lyanna returned the Queen’s smile. She would need her favor if she wanted to survive these place.

Lyanna was about to open her mouth when the door opened and something, no someone stormed inside.

Within the blink of a moment the small person had hurled himself in the Queen’s arms.

It was a young boy. He had a sharp face, framed by pale hair that resembled Prince Rhaegar and the Queen. Only his eyes were different: almond-shaped and lilac.

He laughed when the Queen placed a sloppy kiss on top of his head.

“It is wonderful to see you, sweetling,” the Queen said softly and smoothed her hand over his untidy hair. ”But you shouldn’t forget your manners, my son. We have a guest…greet your brother’s bride.”

Obediently, the boy lifted his head and turned to look at Lyanna.

“Bride,” he repeated as if the word meant nothing to him. ”Does that mean there will be a big cake?”

The Queen chuckled lightly and patted the boy’s shoulder.

“There will be plenty of cake, but it also means your brother will get wed.”

Prince Viserys frowned and picked his nose, as if he didn’t quite know what to make of his mother’s words.

Lyanna swallowed hard and pushed the plate over the table. Her cake was still there, untouched.

“Here,” she said and smiled at the young boy. ”Do you want my cake, my Prince?”

The boy gave her stunned look as if to say: Why on earth would you give me your cake?

“Really?”

She nodded her head in affirmation.

“Really.”

Prince Viserys took one last glance at the Queen, as if to ask for her approval.

“Very well,” the Queen answered and sighed deeply. The Prince grinned and started to shuffle the piece of cake into his mouth as if his life depended upon it.

Lyanna’s heart clenched at the sight. It reminded her of her brother Benjen.

“What do we say after receiving a gift, sweetling?” the Queen reminded him in a firm tone.

The Prince snapped his head back at her and graced Lyanna with a quick smile.

“Thank you,” he said and pulled on his mother’s arm.

“There is still time left until supper, Lady Mother!” he declared excitedly. ”Can I go and help father burn the thieves?”

Lyanna thought she misheard, but when she saw the pale expression taking hold of the Queen’s face she knew that it was true.

Lyanna shuddered.

_Gods, what kind of place is this? Hell?_

“Not today, sweetling,” the Queen appeased the Prince with a gentle smile. ”I heard you didn’t complete your lessons. We need to take care of that, before we have supper.”

The Prince frowned sullenly and buried his head in the Queen’s chest.

“I don’t want to, Lady Mother,” he muttered unhappily. ”Lessons are boring.”

The Queen gave Lyanna an apologetic look and patted her son’s head.

“Well, your lessons won’t be boring any longer. Henceforth Lady Lyanna will be your learning companion. She needs someone to help her learn High Valyrian. Who better than you?”

“Me?” he asked in disbelief. Then he turned around to look at Lyanna.

“The Queen speaks true,” Lyanna confirmed with a smile and tried to forget about the earlier implications. Rhaegar had informed her beforehand that she would have to learn High Valyrian, but she expected to get a private tutor and not that she would take lessons with her soon-to-be good brother. ”I promise you, your lessons will be much less boring from now on, my Prince.”

…


	18. Rhaegar

**Rhaegar**

The shadows danced against the walls as they made their way down the numerous stone steps. All he could hear was Lyanna’s soft breath and the movements of his footfalls on the ground. Before him and behind him spread a sea of darkness, the torch their guide.

“Will it ever end?” Lyanna asked, her long solemn face cast in the torch light. Her almond-shaped eyes looked like a beautiful pair of moonstones. Just looking at them quickened his heartbeat.

“We are nearly there,” he assured her with a smile. ”Is the wild she-wolf perhaps afraid of the dark?”

Her grey eyes narrowed in annoyance. Suddenly, she really looked like an angry wolf.

“I am not afraid,” she replied quickly and crossed her arms in front of her. ”I am just tired and my head hurts. I have been studying all morning in company of your brother and the rest of the day I have been standing on a chair while the seamstresses turned me into a needle pillow.”

Rhaegar couldn’t help but to smile. Her honest remarks were always refreshing to hear.

“I had to listen to the ramblings of the small council,” he countered. ”Hearing about taxes and quarreling lords can be quite tiresome too, but I doubt it is anything compared to having Viserys around. He has the tendency to drive his nursemaids insane.”

Lyanna shrugged her shoulders.

“All children are lively. I think what he needs are other children to play with.”

“I know,” Rhaegar agreed with her. ”Sadly, my Lord Father fears for his safety and it doesn’t help that my Lady Mother spoils him so much. I offered to oversee my brother’s education, but my Father doesn’t want us to be close. He is my replacement.”

“Replacement?” Lyanna asked and stopped to turn around. Her brows were furrowed and her lips a thin pale line. ”Your father has only two sons…”

“My father is no rational man,” he explained quickly and waved his torch at the last staircase. ”He was not always like this, but it cannot allow him to continue like he pleases. This is another reason I chose you as my bride.”

He braced himself for her angry reaction, but she remained completely still.

“I am aware of that,” she replied quietly and followed him down the staircase. This staircase was rather narrow and they had to walk close to each other. Rhaegar could smell her perfume, a hint of lavender mixed with mint. It was a pleasant smell that made him aware how close they were. ”So you want my father’s help to depose the King?”

“Not only your father’s help,” he corrected her. ”I will need the help of the other Lord Paramounts. The tourney of Harrenhall was meant to mark the beginning of a Great Council, but my father found out about my plans…that is also the reason he came to the tourney…to thwart my plans.”

“The Riverlands will also be yours, but half of them are already Targaryen loyalists. Jon Arryn is very fond of Robert, but Robert is also very fond of my brother Ned. He might be angered because of the broken betrothal, but I don’t think he would ever take up arms against my brother. Jon Arryn is also a reasonable man. I am sure he would help you depose of your father if it is the best for the realm. In the worst case both of them might simply stay their swords. I cannot speak about the other Lord Paramounts, but it is a beginning.”

“It is,” he agreed as they reached the bottom of the steps. ”Does that mean you approve of my plans?”

She nodded her head and took the last step. ”Why would I not? I met your father…and I saw what he did to your mother. A man who harms a kind woman like her shouldn’t be our King.”

“Sadly, he is anointed by the gods. Regardless of my good intentions…people will call me a usurper and my father’s loyal dogs won’t simply sit by while I take power,” he voiced his fears.

“Fuck the gods!” she cursed in a whispery voice. ”Sometimes you need to shed a little bit of blood to bring peace.”

Rhaegar chuckled.

“You have a way with words, my Lady.”

He didn’t receive an answer from her, because her attention was soon directed elsewhere. Before them spread a large spacious room filled innumerous skulls. The dragons of his forefathers stood arranged along the walls like gigantic monuments. Some skulls were as tall as a man, others even as big as a small house, but the biggest were kept in the Throne Room.

“The big one,” Lyanna said, her voice laced with amusement.” Is this Balerion the Dread?”

Rhaegar lifted his torch to lighten the darkness. Lyanna pointed at a large skull at the other end of the hall, its’ empty sockets staring back at him through the shifting shadows.

Rhaegar didn’t know what this dragon was called, but it certainly wasn’t Balerion the Dread.

“Balerion the Dread is in the Throne Room. I am not surprised you didn’t notice…my Lord Father is quite polarizing,” he explained and placed his hand on her shoulder. He expected her to push him away, but she remained still. She simply followed along like an obedient child, her eyes glittering as they beheld an even larger skull. ”Here is his brother…Vhagar.”

“Seven hells!” Lyanna gasped. ”This was Queen Visenya’s dragon…Can…can I touch it?”

“Certainly,” Rhaegar encouraged her and squeezed her shoulder. It relieved him that she was becoming comfortable in his presence.

“I can’t believe it,” she whispered and stepped towards the skull. Reverently, she touched the smooth surface of the jaw. _A lover’s touch_ , he thought.

“I thought the bones would feel cold,” she said in a hushed whisper.

“Dragons are never cold,” he whispered in her ear and leaned down to cover her hand with his. ”They are fire made flesh.”

“And yet they all died,” she replied sadly and squeezed his hand. Her touch sent a jolt of warmth through his body. He had felt the same tender stirrings when he met Elia, but all of their happiness had turned to ash after Rhaenys’ difficult birth and Aegon’s death. He cared for Elia, but he never desired her like this girl.

 _The gods curse men who follow their wanton desires_ , he could hear his old Septa’s rambling voice. _Take care, my Prince._

“King Aegon the Unlikely dreamed of hatching dragons,” he added quietly. “And nearly wiped out his house…it was the day of my birth.”

“The Tragedy of Summerhall,” Lyanna replied and lifted her head to meet his gaze. ”Old Nan told us the numerous times. I am sorry for what happened to your family.”

“No need,” he assured her and eyed her pursed lips. He had wanted to kiss her before, but last time she was still angry with him. ”I grew up with the tales, but I ask you not to speak about it in front of my Lady Mother. It would only upset her.”

“I won’t,” she promised and her eyes grew impossible wide. Then she trembled and exhaled deeply. ”I like her far too much to hurt her.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” he replied and leaned closer. ”She is a loving person…”

Thousands of different emotions seemed to flicker across her face as he moved closer, but she didn’t back away as he touched her cheek with his free hand. He feared to receive a slap, but she leaned closer to place her lips on his. Her kiss was at first cautious, but then she parted her lips, allowing him to deepen the kiss. She tasted of lemons and cake, a heady combination that blurred his mind. He felt the urge to pull her tighter against his body, but that was impossible. He had to hold the torch or they might never make it out of this crypt.

Then, as if a spell was lifted from them, she pulled back.

She stared back at him with blown eyes, her lips slightly swollen from their kiss. Any other maid would have blushed, but not Lyanna Stark.

She beamed like a star.

“That was good,” she summed up her experience. _More than good_ , Rhaegar wanted to add and kept his thoughts to himself, his heart hammering against his ribcage. ”Does it always feel this good?”

“I don’t know,” he replied honestly.

“You were wed before,” she countered and searched his gaze. ”I saw Princess Elia at the tourney. She is a beautiful woman.”

“She is,” he confirmed hesitatingly. ”But she wasn’t the woman I chose…Do you understand?”

“I understand better than you can know,” she replied, her face suddenly awash with doubt. ”But there is something else I need to know…I didn’t dare to ask you…Where is your daughter? I thought she would be at court?”

Rhaegar froze, all lust drained out of his body.

“She is in the hands of a loyal subject,” he replied through gritted teeth and averted his gaze. ”To keep me in place.”

“I see,” she replied and lifted her hand to touch his shoulder. Her touch made him turn around. He read concern and fear on her face. ”So she is a hostage?”

He brushed a strand of brown hair out of her face.

“Aye, she is a hostage, but I intend to save her. My father gave me permission to visit her after the wedding. I know someone who might be able to help us.”

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry for the long delay, but I was really exhausted after the last chapter of the Wrath of Winter. I needed a break. Another chapter will follow this week. The Red Door will be updated tomorrow.


	19. Benjen

**Benjen**

“So you agree to this, father?” Brandon asked, his booming voice echoing through their Lord Father’s solar. He looked angry, his face flushed and his grey eyes narrowed. ”You really want to leave Lyanna to this family of madmen?”

Their Lord Father sighed deeply and put away the letter he had read to Brandon, Ned and Benjen. It concerned the betrothal between his sister Lyanna and Prince Rhaegar Targaryen.

“What do you want me to do?” their Lord Father asked and gave Brandon a scrutinizing look. ”Storm the Red Keep and demand Lyanna back? Besides, King Aerys offer is more than generous. He offered twice as much as Robert and more importantly…Lyanna will be Queen.”

“Queen to a family of mad men,” Brandon insisted stubbornly and slashed his hand on the table. ”You wouldn’t speak like that if you saw how this arrogant Princeling stole her away from us.”

Ned chuckled when he heard that and put down the cup of ale he had been sipping on throughout the whole exchange.

“I think you are only angry because he managed to unhorse you,” Ned teased Brandon. ”Besides, I saw no hint of madness in his bearing.”

“I agree,” Benjen added his voice. “I spoke to the Prince. He was kind to me…maybe…maybe I could even become a knight and one day a member of Kingsguard.”

“You and your silly dreams of knighthood!” Brandon grumbled. “So you would really cut off your cock to serve the Mad King, little brother?”

Benjen was taken back by his brother’s rebuke.

“I want to protect Lyanna…that is all,” he replied quietly, but Brandon didn’t care.

“Bad for you that the Kingsguard is meant to protect the Mad King and not the Princeling’s wife. Who says that he will not do away with her like the Dornish Princess? What if she is not able to give the Princling a son? Next time he might burn her alive…” he continued, but was silenced by their Lord Father’s sharp look.

“I think we heard enough,” their Lord Father admonished Brandon. ”All you said is true, but there are rumors that the Prince is planning to remove his father from power. According to Maester Walys, the Tourney of Harrenhall was more than just a nameday celebration for Lord Whent’s daughter, but part of a plot against the King. Apparently, this plot was thwarted by King Aerys attendance.”

Brandon fell silent and Ned paled visibly.

“And do you think these rumors are reliable, Lord Father?” Ned asked.

“Nothing is sure,” their Lord Father replied, his grey eyes still fixed on Brandon. ”But I always believed that there is a hint of truth to be found in every rumor. It remains to be seen what the future brings, but I intend to speak to the Prince to figure out his true motives.”

“And what about _your old plans,_ Lord Father?” Brandon asked through clenched teeth. ”Did you decide to abandon them only because the Mad King offered you a handful of more gold dragons than Robert?”

Silence fell over the room. Benjen was confused and when he searched Ned’s face his older brother looked equally lost.

Only when he noticed his Lord Father’s displeased look he realized that Brandon had revealed something he shouldn’t have known about.

“I don’t know what you are referring to, my son,” their Lord Father replied tensely.

“You know very well what I am referring to, Lord Father,” Brandon snorted. “Do you think I am stupid? The idea to foster Ned in the Vale, my betrothal to Catelyn Tully and Lyanna’s betrothal to Robert Baratheon…the Targaryen loyalist in Harrenhall are quite convinced you are also cooking up a conspiracy.”

Benjen was stunned by this revelation and angled his head to appraise his Lord Father’s face. Yet no matter how hard Benjen tried he couldn’t make out what his Lord Father was thinking.

“It doesn’t surprise me that they believe that,” their Lord Father replied calmly. ”And it is probably the reason King Aerys wants Lyanna to wed his son. Any allegiance with the Stormlords is now null and void. It seems King Aerys is quite cunning for a mad man.”

“I don’t think it was the King’s idea,” Ned added hesitatingly. “But the Prince’s doing.”

“Perhaps you are right,” their Lord Father agreed. ”But it matters not. The Dornish Princess’ fragile health is a known fact. Lyanna is healthy. She will provide the Prince with a son and we will help him to get rid of King Aerys. Robert might grumble about the broken betrothal, but Jon Arryn will keep him under control. And your marriage to Lord Hoster will keep the Riverlands loyal.”

“You still haven’t answered my question,” Brandon added stubbornly. “What about your past plans? Why change sides to these mad men when we could finally get rid of them?”

“I think it is better for you to close your mouth, my son,” their Lord Father replied coldly, his voice taking a dangerous tone, indicating that Brandon overstepped his boundaries. “I have no interest to discuss these matters with you. I think it is best if you remain here in Winterfell. Ned and Benjen will accompany me to King’s Landing. It is time for to give prove yourself as my heir.”

Brandon muttered something under his breath, but still dropped his head in acceptance.

“I will do as you say, Lord Father.”

“Good,” their Lord Father replied and rose to his feet. ”And no more visits to Lady Barbrey. I don’t want to see Lord Tully insulted by your escapades.”

“Very well,” Brandon grumbled and re-filled his cup. ”I will cut off my cock and patiently wait for your next command, my Lord.”

“I only ask to keep your cock in your breeches,” their Lord Father replied and shifted his attention to Ned. ”The North will need heirs…trueborn heirs.”

“As you say, Lord Father,” Brandon repeated and averted his gaze.

“I have also thought about your request,” their Lord Father added and graced Ned with a seldom smile. ”You have my approval to court Lady Ashara. Given that the Prince is close with the Dayne's it makes sense to pursue such a match. I suppose Benjen will be the one to wed a girl from the Vale, but there is still enough time to consider this matter thoroughly.”

Ned’s face lightened up like a room full of candles. It was such a seldom sight that Benjen even rubbed his eyes to be sure.

“I thank you, Lord Father.”

Benjen didn’t like his father’s plans for him, but he was still excited to go to King’s Landing. _Brandon can call me a dreamer if he wants, but Lyanna will help me become a knight. She promised me._

_…_


	20. Jaime

**Jaime**

Cersei gave him a devilish smile as she brushed his seed from her lips. She had grown only more beautiful since their separation. Her beautiful face was slightly flushed and her golden hair curled around her shoulders like a shroud of gold. The dress she wore was even more tempting. It was red and accentuated her shapely figure perfectly. Especially, her breasts looked ripe and round like apples.

“You lost your endurance,” she teased him and lifted her head. ”The Kingsguard made you a weak.”

Jaime grabbed her hair and pulled her head towards his lips. He longed to kiss her again, but Cersei buried her fingernails in his hand and managed to free herself from his grip.

“I am not in the mood for more,” she informed him and settled down on the bed to fasten the bindings of her dress. ”And this impending sham wedding only helps to dim my mood.”

Hearing her mention this “sham wedding” for the hundred time also helped to dim his mood. He sighed deeply and rose to his feet. As he laced up his breeches he turned back to Cersei.

“You can moan about it as much as you want, sweet sister,” he replied in a annoyed tone. ”But Prince Rhaegar will soon bury his cock between the Stark girl’s thighs. Bury your dreams of Queenship and move on. Not even Father could prevent this wedding.”

He expected a chiding smile, but when Cersei lifted her head her jade green eyes burned like a cage of wildfire.

“Who are you?” she demanded to know.

The question confused him, but he decided to play along.

“Ser Jaime Lannister,” he replied and started to fasten his white cloak.

“Exactly,” she replied and leaned back. ”You are a Lannister…act like one. You may not care that the King forced the Stark whore on our Prince, but I do. For the best of the realm we need to break up this marriage as soon as possible.”

Jaime didn’t believe his ears. He wasn’t sure if Cersei was serious or joking.

Thus leaned down to touch Cersei’s shoulder and gave her a worried look.

“Cersei,” he addressed her in a calm voice. ”Are you drunk?”

Her vitrol reaction was unexpected. She slapped his hand away and gave him an angry look.

“I am serious,” she insisted and brushed her golden locks over her shoulders. “It should have been me who weds the Prince and not this dirty little girl from the North. It was worse enough that the King forced this sickly Princess on him. No, I cannot allow that.”

Jaime was speechless. He always knew that Cersei harbored some sort of infatuation for the Prince, but this was too much.

“And how will you accomplish that?” he asked in an almost mocking tone. His jealousy only helped to stir his anger. ”I have seen the Stark girl only briefly, but she looks quite healthy to me. I doubt she will have the same problems as the Dornish Princess.”

“That does not need to concern you, sweet brother,” she replied and gave him a knowing smile. “The girl may be young, but that doesn’t mean she is fertile. Besides, Father will find a way. He promised to make me Queen.”

“Whatever,” Jaime muttered and felt the sharp sting of jealousy. _I need to open her eyes to the truth_. ”You say the Prince was forced into this, but you forget that he crowned the Stark girl.”

Cersei rolled her eyes and moved closer to place a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Oh, sweet brother. I think that’s your jealousy speaking,” she added in a teasing tone and snaked down her hand to touch his cock. “I shall be Queen while you will spend the rest of your days watching over Prince Viserys and his ailing mother.”

Her soft strokes were usually enough to win him over, but her vile words left a bitter taste in his mouth. Instead of pulling her back into his embrace he grabbed her hand and brushed it away.

“Well,” he replied and laced up his breeches anew. ”In two days you are going to watch the Stark girl fuck your glorious Prince. Then you will find out what real jealousy feels like, sweet sister.”

Cersei paled visibly. It was seldom that he gave her such a sharp rebuke, but her behavior had hurt him deeply. He had longed for her all this time and all she could do was lust after the Prince.

Yet Jaime wasn’t surprised when she slapped him.

“How dare you speak to me like that?” she asked and caressed her knuckles. Jaime felt his cheek burn, but he knew that he was the winner of this argument.

“Goodnight then, sister,” he added and left her chambers, to return to his duties. “I will see you in two days. I hope you enjoy your stay.”

And yet it was a hollow triumph, for his heart still ached for her touch. _Love is a slow poison_ , someone had told him when he was a young boy. It could have been a Septa or one of his elderly relatives, but that is exactly how he would describe his love for Cersei: a slow, deadly poison.

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, but I needed to introduce Jaime since he will be very important later in the story. While I actually never had a problem with their romance (yeah I know it is incest, but Cersei was also kinda forced to marry King Robert so I do feel some sort of compassion for her), but at the end of the day I always felt as if their relationship is kinda one-sided. Jaime seems to love her dearly and she mostly uses him to bolster up her own self-worth. It is kinda a toxic relationship. The fact that she is lusting after Rhaegar only helps to reinforces that for Jaime. I think in the books it never became quite clear to him, since Cersei was dependent for comfort when she was wed to Robert.


	21. Arthur

**Arthur**

One could have easily mistaken Lady Lyanna for a prim and proper lady. She had donned a grey wool dress, her usually disheveled hair braided out of her face. Most southron ladies would have called her dress too simple, but then she hailed from the North. Frilly dresses and lace provided little protection against the cold, though these kinds of garments were certainly less pleasing to the eye.

At first he thought this was the result of the Queen’s handiwork, but now he realized what had caused Lady Lyanna’s change in appearance. It was the presence of her father, Lord Rickard Stark, now seated at the opposing side of the table.

The Lord of Winterfell was neither tall nor short, his face long and sharp like carved from ice. His long brown hair showed the first streaks of grey as did his finely-sheaved beard. His garb could only be called unfitting for a place like King’s Landing. Pelt and leather were not common garments among the courtiers, but one couldn’t deny that the grey bear pelt fitted the man better than a silken doublet.

“I expected to speak to the King,” Lord Rickard Stark remarked after he had read over the parchment, detailing the marriage contract between Lady Lyanna and Prince Rhaegar. “I suppose the King is indisposed?”

Rhaegar’s face was unreadable, an apologetic smile crossing over his full lips. _He is nervous_ , Arthur realized when he noticed the Rhaegar’s twitching hand, brushing over the hem of his tunic.

Not that Arthur faulted Rhaegar for it. Much depended on this meeting.

“My Lord Father is sick,” Rhaegar explained. “But he will attend the wedding. He asked me to settle the negotiations on his behalf. I hope it is not too much of a bother for you, my Lord.”

“It is no bother,” Rickard Stark replied, his dark grey eyes narrowed in concentration. He folded the parchment in front of him and leaned back in his chair, a frozen smile hushing over his lips. “I understand that the King has more important matters to attend to. That makes me wonder…Does your Lord Father intend to attend my son’s wedding to Lady Catelyn Tully?”

Arthur read understanding on Rhaegar’s face.

“I doubt it, my Lord. The King prefers to remain here…Harrenhall is an exception,” Rhaegar replied. “I fear it will fall to me to attend your son’s wedding.”

“What a pity,” Lord Stark replied and graced Rhaegar with another frozen smile. “Every Lord of rank and name from the North and the Riverlands will attend my son’s wedding. Even Jon Arryn will be there. I am sure they would be pleased to meet you, my Prince.”

_This isn’t about the wedding_ , Arthur finally realized. _He is speaking about something far more dangerous…Treason._

“A pity,” Rhaegar agreed tensely and returned Lord Rickard Stark’s smile. “When will this wedding be held?”

“A year from now,” Lyanna added quickly, a smile playing on her rosy lips.

Rhaegar nodded his head in understanding while Rickard Stark gave his daughter a sharp look.

“Forgive me, Lord Father,” she apologized through clenched teeth and folded her hands in her lap. “I didn’t mean to speak out.”

“It is alright,” Rhaegar assured her, but Rickard Stark seemed to disagree.

“Lyanna is a wild wolf,” he explained in a heavy voice. “Her Lady Mother died young and she lacks the refinement of other southron ladies. I fear the Queen has her work cut out for her.”

“My mother is pleased with her progress,” Rhaegar assured Lord Stark, his voice laced with annoyance. ”And I specifically chose your daughter, because she lacks the refinement of a southron lady. I like that about her.”

Arthur was surprised about Rhaegar’s blunt reply, but if Lord Stark was insulted it didn’t show on his icy face.

“Good to hear,” Lord Rickard Stark replied skeptically. “But back to my son’s wedding. As my daughter rightly said…Brandon’s wedding is meant to happen a year from now. However, nothing is fixed. It could be delayed according to your convenience.”

“Your offer is appreciated, my Lord,” Rhaegar replied and smiled tightly. “Lyanna will write to you in good time.”

“Of course,” Lord Rickard Stark replied, his gaze flickering back to Lyanna. “Now that we have settled the formalities, we should speak about more practical matters. I brought you new dresses…we can’t have you running around like a vagrant. I hope they are to your taste, daughter.”

Lyanna Stark nodded her head, a forced smile crossing over her lips.

“I thank you, Lord Father. Jorelle was already complaining about my lacking wardrobe.”

“Good to hear,” Lord Rickard Stark answered. “Your mother was wise to choose Lady Flint as your companion. She shall have one of the less elaborate dresses.”

Instantly, Lady Lyanna’s face lightened up like a candle.

“Jorelle will be beyond herself with happiness,” Lady Lyanna declared, a happy smile curling on her lips as she rose to her feet to move towards her father. “I thank you for her allowing her to stay. I was afraid you would take her away…,” Lady Lyanna added softly and was about to lean down, probably to place a kiss on her cheeks, but Lord Rickard Stark’s disapproving look stopped her.

“Not here,” he admonished her. “This is a formal meeting.”

Lady Lyanna paled and returned to her seat.

“I understand,” she added, her voice lacking its usual strength. “Will you visit me later? Perhaps Benjen and Ned could…” she began, but Lord Rickard cut her off.

“I don’t think so,” Lord Rickard Stark insisted. “You will be able to see them after your wedding. You should focus on your studies.”

Lyanna didn’t answer. She simply nodded her head, anger written all over her face.

Arthur couldn’t believe it. Lord Rickard Stark was the living embodiment of frost.

“Ser Arthur,” Rhaegar called him back to the present. “Would you accompany Lady Lyanna back to the Maidenvault? She looks a bit pale around the face.”

“Of course,” Arthur confirmed and noticed Rhaegar’s tense expression as he turned around to look at Lady Lyanna. “Shall we go, my Lady?”

Lady Lyanna gave Rhaegar a thankful smile and rose to her feet.

“We shall go, Ser Arthur,” she confirmed and dropped a quick curtsy, before she followed after him.

Silence spread between them as they passed through the long corridor, leading out to one of the many inner courtyards.

“I have to say,” he said after he had opened the door for her. “Your Lord Father is a rather frosty man.”

“He was not always like that. My mother’s death turned him into a bitter man,” she replied through gritted teeth and stepped inside. A dozen of steps followed leaving them breathless when they finally reached Lady Lyanna’s chamber. There, Lady Jorelle was already waiting for them. The Queen had sent numerous ladies to attend to Lady Lyanna, but she preferred the company of her childhood companion.

Arthur understood why. Lady Jorelle Flint was a pleasant person, not only in looks, but also in character. She had a witty tongue, which she kept well hidden beneath a sweet smile.

“My Lady,” she greeted and dropped a curtsy. “I am surprised about your quick return.”

Lyanna waved her hand at Lady Jorelle and slipped past her handmaid into her chamber.

Lady Jorelle gave him an apologetic smile. It was a smile that could have melted snow. Arthur hardly knew her, but there was something about her that reminded him about his late betrothed.

“I thank you for returning her safely, Ser Arthur,” Lady Flint replied and dipped her head, her grey-blue eyes taking in his white cloak. They stopped at the torn seam he had yet to fix.

“Forgive my untidy appearance, my Lady,” he explained and couldn’t help but to smile at the pretty girl. It had been a long time that he felt the stirrings of the flesh, but even a man of the Kingsguard was only a man. Some of his brothers, among them Oswell Whent and even Gerold Hightower, frequented brothels, but not Arthur.

Lady Jorelle blushed deeply.

“Forgive me…I didn’t mean to stare,” she stuttered and pursed her lips. ”But I am surprised that you know how to use a needle, Ser Arthur.”

He couldn’t help but to chuckle and gave her the answer she was searching for.

“My Lady Mother believed that even young man should be able to stich a simple hole.”

Lady Jorelle gave him a wondrous look.

“It seems your Lady Mother was a very practical woman.”

“Practical and able,” he confirmed and lowered his head. “I shall now take my leave from you. Good day, my Lady.”

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Rickard Stark comes off as a dick, but he is simply not the kind of man who spoils his children. He expects a lot of Lyanna and also his other children. Lyanna even more so, because she is going to be a Queen. He sees it as problematic to indulge her what he would call "wild temper". He is also a very ambitious man, he likes the idea of marrying his daughter to a dragon and getting a crown for his potential grandson. He is not any different than Tywin, Doran, Mace etc. Just because Ned was a nice and honourable guy doesn't mean his father was one as well. Ned is not the average Northman. A lot of his so called morals are from Jon Arryn and not from the North. This typical Northern honour and navity the show gives the Starks is actually bullshit. The Northmen are seen as ruthless and barbarians by most southron men and women. Rickard is such a kind of person as well. He is not a man to be crossed, but he has one major weakness. He is very prideful.
> 
> Red Door will be updated soon. I didn't have much time to write due to work and Christmas coming up. I am a bit stressed at the moment.


	22. Cersei

**Cersei**

Cersei couldn’t have been happier. The gods sent grey clouds and buckets of rain for Prince Rhaegar’s and Lady Lyanna Stark’s wedding day.

_Even the gods weep over this match_ , Cersei thought as she followed after Queen Rhaella’s ladies in the Sept of Baelor. The Queen looked pale and threw an anxious glance at one of her ladies, who looked rather distraught over her destroyed hairstyle. It was young Lynesse Hightower, a maid of ten and tree. She was Lord Hightowers youngest child and had only recently joined the Queen’s entourage. Cersei rolled her eyes when she saw the girl’s fat tears rolling down her cheeks.

_Soft flowers like this girl shouldn’t be allowed at court_ , Cersei thought and forced a sweet smile over her lips. She had to make a good impression on the Queen if she hoped to return into her service, though her Lord Father’s quarrels with the King made it harder for her than anticipated.

“Oh, sweet Lynesse!” she cooed and patted the girl’s shoulder. “Now dry your tears and let me help you with your hair.”

A few pulls here and there and the girl looked rather passable, though Cersei couldn’t have cared less. What counted was the grateful smile the Queen gave her afterwards. Cersei came to court when she was ten and two and had done her best to win the Queen’s favour. _You are so much like your mother_ , the Queen had declared more than once. _The same smile and same bearing. Just like my old friend Joanna._

Sadly, it was not the Queen’s word that counted. It was the King who chose this sickly Princess from Dorne.

When Princess Elia got pregnant with her first babe Cersei had prayed day and night for the Princess’ death, but every time she managed to survive. _The gods must like her_ , Cersei was sure, but even the gods weren’t able to protect her from her Lord Father’s cunning mind.

_Soon you shall be Queen_ , he had told her not long after Prince Aegon’s death and only a moon later the Princess was sent back to Dorne, her marriage annulled and her reputation tarnished beyond repair. It was more than a surprise to her that Princess Eila even managed to find herself another husband. _Baelor Hightower must be a fool_ , she thought and shifted her attention to the entrance. She could sense the anticipation of the crowd. They all came to see the Prince and his child bride, the wild little Stark girl he had crowned at the tourney of Harrenhall.

Cersei gasped when she laid eyes on the Prince. Even her beautiful brother Jaime looked like a beggar compared to Prince Rhaegar. The sight of his long silver hair and his dark indigo eyes sent a jolt of desire to her core.

She couldn’t help but to squirm as he passed her by. The King walked next to him, his appearance surprisingly sober. He had even cut his usually untidy hair and his grizzly fingernails. As always, the smell of smoke followed him like a shadow.

“Lady Mother!” Prince Viserys cheerful voice broke the silence. The Queen smiled at the young boy as he continued to stumble after the King.

_What a spoiled brat_ , Cersei thought and smiled at the Queen. _My son would never behave in such an inappropriate manner._

Once Prince Rhaegar had taken his position near the altar Lord Stark and his daughter appeared. She heard gasps and hushed whispers, but Cersei couldn’t help but to clench her teeth at the sight of the Stark girl.

The girl’s dress was as beautiful as the Queen had promised. It was made of several pieces of white lace, falling perfectly around the girl’s slender body. Even more precious were the countless silver embroideries swirling over the corset and dress. If that wasn’t enough, they had woven a dozen of glittering moonstones in Lyanna Stark’s brown hair, curling all the way down to her waist.

The ladies around her showered the Queen with compliments, but Cersei felt only disgust when she saw the flower crown resting on the Stark girl’s head. Any normal girl would have chosen a slim band of silver or gold, but this brazen girl chose to wear a crown of winter roses, the same Prince had gifted her at the tourney of Harrenhall.

_What a sly little whore_ , Cersei thought and watched as she took her position next to Prince Rhaegar. Blazing anger filled her at the sight. _But it won’t win her the Prince’s affections_ , Cersei was sure. This child was forced on the Prince like the sickly Princess. The day will come when Cersei will stand at the Prince’s side.

Cersei was barely able to hear the High Septon’s muffled voice. She watched and hoped throughout the whole ceremony that he Stark girl would do something inappropriate, but nothing of the sort happened. The Stark girl mastered the ceremony like a well-trained songbird. Once the vows and the blessings were spoken, the Prince pulled his child bride’s wedding cloak from her shoulders. The cloak was made of grey pelt and a grizzly wolf embellished in the middle. Cersei could hardly look at this flea-infested garment.

_What a waste_ , she thought as the Prince exchanged his child bride’s cloak with his own cloak, a beautiful garment of black silk, embroidered with shining rubies. _What a waste._

When it was done the High Septon sealed the marriage, cursing those who would dare to tear the newly- wedded pair apart. Everyone around her clapped, but Cersei. She had to avert her gaze when the Prince placed a kiss on the girl’s crimson lips.

The sky had cleared when they left the Great Sept of Baelor. Bright streams of sunlight were bursting through the thick clouds and touched her skin.

“Look, Lady Mother!” Prince Viserys exclaimed happily and pointed at the sky. “A rainbow!”

The Queen smiled and smoothed the Prince’s disheveled silver curls. The other ladies sighed deeply at the sight of the rainbow.

“A good sign,” Lynesse Hightower whispered. “A blessing by the gods!”

_Fuck the gods_ , Cersei thought and tried to ignore the girl, who obviously mistook her previous actions as an offer of friendship. _May the gods send thunder from the sky!_

Sadly, nothing of the sort happened and the procession to the Red Keep continued without interruptions.

A massive feast followed. Everyone came to lick the King’s boots, though he left early, barely an hour after the first course had been served.

As the Queen’s guest she was seated next to her. Normally, she would have thought of it as an honor, but it also meant she had to endure Prince Viserys’ constant blabbering. The Queen fed him cake to silence him, but it was no use. By the time the first guests had taken to the dance floor, Cersei wanted to stab the boy with her fork.

“You look rather pale around the face, my Lady,” Queen Rhaella and graced Cersei with a warm smile. Despite her advancing age, the Queen was still a beautiful woman. Cersei had always envied her for her silver hair and her sharp cheekbones. A daughter of hers would have stolen every man’s heart. “Are you not enjoying the festivities?”

Cersei rubbed her head temples and gave a sorrowful sigh.

“I am rather tired, but the fine company helps,” she replied and fanned herself fresh air. Briefly, her gaze darted to the Prince and his child bride.

Her fan nearly dropped out of her hands when she saw the Prince’s smile.

_Why is he smiling_ , she wondered, a horrible realization washing over her as she thought back on Jaime’s words. _No, it can’t be true,_ she thought and brushed her doubts away.

To calm herself she poured herself one cup after another, intending to drown her doubts with sweet Arbor. _Jaime is nothing more than a jealous fool._

The rest of the night was a blur of music and wine, until the drunken cries of the guests called for the bedding.

“Lady Cersei,” the Queen’s gentle voice roused her out of her stupor. “Princess Lyanna will need my assistance and my son yours, my ladies.”

The Queen’s ladies giggled like a flock of hens as they accompanied the Prince to his bridal chamber. They pulled on his clothing, freeing him of his silken tunic, velvet cloak and polished boots.

He squirmed under their attention, but brushed their hands away when they wanted to remove the last piece of clothing.

“You may leave now, my ladies,” he told them in flustered tone and brushed his tousled silver hair over his shoulders. Even with messy hair he looked glorious. “I thank you all for your assistance.”

As Cersei followed after the other ladies her gaze fell briefly at the Stark girl, who had long been freed from her elaborate dress. The girl was only dressed in her chemise, her slender hips noticeable as ever, as the Queen spoke to her in hushed whispers.

The sight of her slender hips helped to calm Cersei’s nerves. _These hips won’t ever bear healthy babes. Father will make sure of it. He promised me. My time will come._

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can say so much: Cersei won't ever fuck Rhaegar nor will she kill one of Lya's potential children. Doesn't mean she might not try something stupid, but Cersei's plans are not always the best.
> 
> Here is Lya's dress:
> 
> https://www.maysange.com/fr/14304-1200284-belle-robe-de-mariee-demi-manche-dentelle-grand-noeud-papillon-amovible.html#/23-taille-38/35-couleur-couleur_de_la_photo
> 
> That's the actress I would choose as a fancast for her:  
> https://www.google.com/search?biw=1366&bih=657&tbm=isch&sa=1&ei=uk4MXP_sJo2YaZ3NhJgB&q=Katie+McGrath+Morgana&oq=Katie+McGrath+Morgana&gs_l=img.3..0l2j0i30l3j0i8i30l2.1692.2895..3196...0.0..0.119.624.7j1......0....1..gws-wiz-img.......0i67.iH_A0XQWc68#imgrc=3R_ZlA9HmYuTRM:
> 
> I know don't have anything against the actress who played Lyanna in the show, but I always imagined Katie McGrath as Lyanna ever since I read the books. I am also a Merlin fan, so I can't help it.
> 
> Rhaegar for me is and will always be Heath Ledger in A Knight's Tale, though with longer hair.


	23. Lyanna

**Lyanna**

Silence fell over them after the Queen and her ladies had left them. Lyanna always prided herself on her bravery, but now she couldn’t help but to feel afraid.

The Septa her father had employed for her as a child had always told her that a ladies duty was to keep still and allow her lord husband do as he pleased. What this “doing” involved was another mystery to her. She often heard Bran brag about his many conquests, but he had always refused to answer her questions when she asked him about it.

 _Well, it can’t be that difficult_ , she thought and shifted her attention back to the Prince. _If horses can do it, I should be able to do it as well._

The Prince stood near the table, his back turned to her and his cloak thrown over his shoulders. The Queen’s ladies had left him nearly naked and would have probably ripped off the rest of his clothing if he hadn’t sent them on their way.

Lyanna was glad that the Queen did the same with the drunken men after they had crossed the threshold to Prince Rhaegar’s chamber. Even more pleased her that Robert wasn’t here. The whole wedding would have probably ended in a fight.

Lyanna watched the Prince with growing anxiety as he poured wine into a cup. His hand trembled, which surprisingly helped to curb her fears a little.

 _He is afraid_ , she realized. _Like me._

This realization helped her to break the silence that had fallen over them.

“I don’t need wine,” she told him then, her voice soft and distant to her ears. Then he averted her gaze, taking in her surroundings.

It was a spacious and airy chamber. The tapestries were rich and colorful, covered in depictions of brave knights and vicious dragons. The canopy bed was covered in red silk and embellished with even more dragons. She liked dragons, but the sheer amount of them in this castle was a bit overbearing. Yet she kept these thoughts to herself and shifted her attention back to the Prince, who had finally turned around, his cup in hand.

A ghost of a smile tugged on his lips, his dark eyes roaming over her body. She shuddered, but not out of discomfort. She liked kissing him, but this was different. She felt warmth pooling between her legs. It was a strange tingling feeling that left her breathless.

 _Is this a good sign_ , she wondered and searched his gaze. She decided to get straight to the point.

“Let’s get this over with…I am rather tired.”

Her words banished the smile from his lips and he took a quick gulp from his cup, before he placed it back on the table.

 _I must have insulted him_ , she realized and brushed her fears away. Then she turned around and pulled the chemise of her dress over her head, before discarding it on the bed in front of her. At last she knelt down on the bed, her back turned to his. She had seen how horses did it, but she wasn’t quite sure if it worked the same way with humans. Her cheeks burn with embarrassment and waited for him to do something.

A moment of tense silence followed, before she felt his touch on her shoulder blade.

It made her skin prickle, her throat suddenly very dry.

“Lyanna,” he added and gently squeezed her shoulder. “What are you doing?”

His question took her completely off guard.

The look on his face could only be described as confused.

 _You are asking me_ , she wanted to snap back at him. _How should I know? Nobody has ever told me anything._

“Isn’t that how it is done?” she asked him, unsure what else she could have said. Her heart was beating violently in her chest as she searched his gaze.

He smiled and brushed her hair over her shoulder.

“Who told you that it is done like this?” he asked, curiosity apparent on his face.

Lyanna felt the sudden urge to hurl herself from a tower. It took all her courage to admit that she had no fucking clue what she was supposed to do.

“I saw horses doing it like this,” she explained at last and cast her gaze to the floor. “I thought humans do it the same way.”

Not much to her surprise, the Prince started to laugh, though not in a cruel way. It was a gentle laugh that could have melted ice.

She still slapped his hand away and averted her gaze.

“Stop it!” she snapped at him when he continued to laugh. “That’s not funny!”

Her complaints finally silenced him.

“Forgive me,” he said at last and sat down next her on the bed. “I didn’t mean to insult you. Your answer was just incredibly amusing.”

She nodded her head in understanding and eyed the cloak that was still thrown over his shoulders. Beneath the folded garment she saw white skin, littered with a few scars. Her brother Brandon had several scars and was never shy to present them to the world.

“Your apology is accepted,” she replied and jerked her head at the cloak. “You should pull that off. It is unfair that you remain dressed while I am freezing.”

He gave her a surprised look, but did as she asked of him.

“You should get beneath the bedding,” he suggested softly and rose back to his feet. “Then you will stop freezing.”

Then he pulled the cloak from his shoulders and placed it on a nearby chair, before shifting his attention back to her. He was not as strongly built as Robert Baratheon, but he had what people would call an athletic built. She quickly averted her gaze when he started to pull of his breeches and smallclothes. She only lifted her head again when he started to slip beneath the bedding.

His warm body brushing against hers felt pleasant, but she still didn’t know what to do. Instead of pondering about it further she lifted her head and kissed. This she liked and was familiar.

His lips were still moist from the wine mixed with honey. She held not much love for the sweet brews of the south, but on his lips the wine tasted quite pleasant.

He returned her kiss, her hand brushing over his cheek and neck. His touch sent tingles down her spine, her own hand treading through his disheveled silver locks. They were still awkwardly entangled, Lyanna lying on her back and Rhaegar leaning over her.

She liked kissing him, but she doubted that would be enough. He seemed to realize this as well and pulled down the bedding, revealing her breasts. A small gasp left her lips as he brushed his hand over them. She closed her eyes and tried to fight off the tingling feeling that spread over her, but it was no use when he moved down to kiss her on her belly and then between her thighs. His kisses were soft, almost feather-like, but very pleasant. She couldn’t help but to tremble.

For whatever silly reason, he stopped and lifted his tousled head, his blown eyes looking down at her with concern.

“Are you well?”

She felt the urge to throttle him for this silly question, but she gave him an encouraging smile.

“Do I look sick to you?”

“No,” he whispered and brushed his hair out of his face. “I was just concerned.”

“No need,” she assured him and lifted her head to kiss him.

He didn’t protest and returned her kiss, his hand snaked its way between her thighs. With gentle strokes he coaxed silent gasps from her lips. A strange feeling washed over her and she buried her fingernails in his shoulder as she allowed herself to be carried away by it.

“I am well,” she assured him when she opened her eyes again, though her heart was threatening to jump out of her chest. Bravely, she snaked her hand between their bodies, touching him. Her actions must have surprised him, because he gasped and buried his head in her shoulder. His reaction encouraged her to continued, his breath hot as dragon fire against her cheek.

He allowed her to continue a while longer, before he brushed her hand away, his breathing labored.

“It will hurt,” he murmured against her cheek as he leaned over her. His dark eyes searched hers for a word of protest, but she gave none.

He leaned down to touch his lips to hers, one hand fisted in the bedding beside her head, as he drove inside her. It hurt a little and she couldn’t help but to flinch, but it nowhere near as painful as she expected.

Making use of the moment, she lifted her gaze and looked at him. Rhaegar looked as tense as a bowstring. He didn’t look as if he was enjoying himself and she felt the sudden urge to wrap her hands around him.

Her actions seemed to encourage him, because he finally started to move, though very cautious.

His head fell on her shoulder as he continued to move inside her, her fingernails digging into his shoulders. Breathy gasps left her mouth as he quickened his pace, leaving her trembling for more.

Then, suddenly he stopped, a soft moan vibrating against her cheek. She felt something warm between her legs, as he rested his head on her shoulder, his body sliding to the side after he had left her.

“Are you well?” she asked him, after his breathing had settled. “You look defeated…”

He laughed, his arm snaking around her shoulder, drawing her closer. She quite liked it, though she had yet to get used to it.

“Sleep now,” he whispered and closed his eyes. “As you said…the wedding was very tiresome. I also invited your brothers to join us tomorrow for supper. I am sure they will demand your full attention.”

She was happy to see her brothers, but she couldn’t help but to frown.

 _How can he sleep now_ , she wondered and realized that he had already drifted off to sleep. _Truly, men are strange creatures. They make such a big fuss about this and then when it is done, they collapse like a bunch of maidens at the sight of blood._

She had heard Bran brag that he could “do it” for hours, but then the Prince seemed almost shy compared to Robert Baratheon and her brother.

She realized then that she might be luckier than expected.

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it is a bit clumsy between the two, but Rhaegar is no ladiesman. The only woman he used to sleep with was Elia and theirs wasn't exactly a passionate marriage. Just because Arianne Martell is a sexbomb doesn't mean all Dornish are like that. And Lyanna, for all her fiercness, is a young girl who never had anyone with whom she could have talked about such matters honestly and without embarrassment. I mean even her friend Jorelle is a maid and I doubt her brothers woud speak with her about such things. Could you imagine Ned giving Lyanna the talk about the bees and the flowers? I cannot.
> 
> Next update will be the Red Door. I am working on it, but the chapters is rather long and I am a bit sick.


	24. Rhaegar

**Rhaegar**

Rhaegar felt cold and the bright sunlight blinded him momentarily.  Slowly, he turned around and found Lyanna missing, the bedding rumpled and covered in blood. _Maiden’s blood._

When he lifted his head he found her. She was garbed in the white nightgown the servant girls had laid out for her last night. Carefully, she dipped a cloth in a bowl filled with water and washed herself between her naked thighs.

Rhaegar felt slightly ashamed when he felt his cock harden. He hurt her and now she was washing away the evidence.

“You are awake,” Lyanna’s firm voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He lifted his head and noticed that she had brushed down her gown. She blushed when she met his gaze. “Did I wake you?”

He shook his head and brushed the bedding up his waist.

“The sun woke me,” he informed her. “What hour is it?”

“Past the eight hour,” Lyanna informed him quickly and made her way back to the bed. She looked unsure, but not afraid. “I heard the bells…How can you sleep so long?”

Rhaegar was confused by her question.

“What do you mean?”

She gave him a mischievous smile and sat  down on the bed. Even from afar he could see the swell of her breasts through her thin nightgown.

“We rise at dawn in Winterfell,” she explained and slipped back beneath the bedding. “I have been awake for a long time.”

Rhaegar didn’t know why, but he found the idea of Lyanna watching him sleep quite enticing. In that moment he was glad that the bedding consisted of several layers of wool and silk.

“That’s no surprise to me,” he replied teasingly. “We in the South always thought that Northmen are a particular breed of people.”

“And we in the North think that the south is a place of sighs and cheap pleasures,” she replied in an amused tone and brushed her brown curls over her shoulder. It was incredibly long and Rhaegar felt the urge to touch it.

He swallowed hard and brushed his insecurities away. _She is my wife._

“In an hour or so you might even get a bath,” he added and leaned over to touch her curly hair. She didn’t protest, but simply stared at him with her grey wolf eyes. “Most of the servants are probably as drunk as the wedding guests. My Lady Mother distributed the rest of the wine to the servants to repay them for their hard work.”

“Your mother is a kind woman, but I fear those servants will curse her for their headache,” she countered and pointed at the bowl of water. “The water was enough…I will take a bath once the servants are ready...and there is still time…we could…you know,” she trailed off and started to play with the hem of her dress.

Rhaegar didn’t believe his ears, but didn’t want to appear too forward. He didn’t want to force her.

“Could what?” he prodded gently.

She sighed in frustration and searched his gaze.

“Do it again…,” she replied and her gaze darted to the bedding, covering the lower parts of his body. “Or like my brother Brandon would say…a quick fumble beneath the sheets.”

Rhaegar frowned. He felt ashamed of his lack of performance.

“I admit…I am out of practice,” he informed her and leaned closer, his breath mingling with hers. “Next time will hopefully be more than just a quick fumble beneath the sheets.”

“I didn’t mean to insult you,” she whispered and placed a soft kiss on his lips, her hand brushing over his neck and then his shoulder. “My brother Brandon is a braggart…he has an image to uphold in front of his younger brothers. I think most of what  he says is horseshit.”

“I see,” he whispered, barely able to form a clear thought when her hand brushed over his shoulder and moved further down, beneath the bedding…

Her gesture took him completely off guard.

“Lyanna…,” he gasped and grabbed her hand. “What are you doing?”

She stopped moving her lips against his and lifted her head, her grey eyes searching his in confusion.

“Don’t you want me to touch your cock?” she asked him rather bluntly.

Rhaegar was completely taken back by her bluntness.

“Cock…,” he muttered and let go of her hand. “I never heard a lady use such vile words.”

She grinned and snaked her hand beneath the bedding, softly caressing him. She chuckled when he bit back a growl.

“My nursemaid used to wash my mouth with soap whenever I used such vile words,” she explained and smiled against his lips. “Please don’t fret about it…I would never use such vile words in front of other ladies…least I corrupt them with my barbaric manners.”

“I quite like your…barbaric manners,” he returned and kissed her neck. “Just don’t use such words in front of my Lady Mother…she is rather sensible…,” he continued and bit back another growl.

He grabbed her hand, stopping her before this turned into another “quick fumble beneath the sheets”.

A soft sigh escaped her lips when he sucked on her ear and she trembled after he had brushed his hand over her breast.

“Let me return the favor…Tell me what to do,” he prodded and brushed down the sleeve of her nightgown.

“When you touched me…I quite liked that,” she whispered. Her voice sounded soft, almost shy.

Her words set him aflame.

He kissed her cheek, then her lips, parting them while he helped her to shed her gown.

She helped him eagerly, her body incredibly warm. She bit his lips, a soft gasp escaping her mouth after he had touched her between her legs. She buried her fingernails in his shoulders as he continued, soft whimpers leaving her mouth.

A louder sigh left her mouth and she broke the kiss, her head buried in his shoulder. She trembled and squirmed. Then she went still.

She lifted her gaze once her breathing had calmed. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen and her hand squeezed his.

“Lie down,” she prodded, no…ordered him.  “Please.”

Rhaegar did as he was asked and lay down. She looked at him for a moment, almost hesitant, before she shifted herself on top of him. She looked so small. His hands could have easily embraced her.

She leaned on his chest, her dark curls falling around her like a curtain. Her smile could only be described as amused.

“You know…I am an excellent rider…” she remarked quietly.

He was unable to avert his gaze, her eyes bright like a pair of moon stones.

He swallowed hard.

“I saw you riding at the tourney,” he whispered as she leaned forward, bracing herself on his chest as she guided his cock between her parted legs. She whimpered, arched her back and closed her eyes.

A ragged breath escaped his lips as she started to move. _She is too slow_ , he thought and had the urge to flip her over.

He touched her hair, trying to forget these thoughts, but it was no use. Another quick jerk of her hip and he had enough. He grabbed her shoulder and flipped her over. She gasped in surprise as he sheathed himself back insider her with a quick thrust.

“Gods,” she whispered and pulled his lips to hers, kissing him fiercely.  He lost himself to her warmth, stifling her moans as she shuddered in his arms.

It was a loud knock on a door that roused him out of his haze.

Ever slowly, he entangled himself from Lyanna’s embrace and stumbled out of the bed. Along the way he pulled on his discarded breeches, tunic and threw his cloak over his shoulders.

“Who is there?” he inquired quietly, mindful not to wake Lyanna.

“Arthur Dayne,” Arthur Dayne replied. Rhaegar opened the door without hesitation, but he wished he had never opened it when he saw Ser Oswell Whent and the tittering Grand Maester Pycelle. Arthur looked like he wanted to hurl himself from a tower and Ser Oswell Whent looked as if he wanted to be anywhere else but here.

“What is your business here, Grand Maester?” he asked the old man. It shouldn’t have surprised him that his Lord Father sent him here. Normally, he wouldn’t risk his father’s wrath unnecessarily, but after hearing Elia’s suspicions about the Grand Maester, he didn’t want him anywhere near Lyanna or any other woman again. “Tell the King that everything is as it should be…”

“The King,” the Grand Maester tittered and angled his head to look inside. “I must insist…” he continued, but Rhaegar cut him off.

“You will not!” Rhaegar snapped back at him and blocked his sight. “Fuck off!”

Sadly, Pycelle remained stubborn as ever.

“My Prince,” the old man said and searched Rhaegar’s gaze. “The King…,” he continued, but Rhaegar silenced him by bashing his hand against thee wooden door. The old man trembled fearfully.

It felt good to see him squirm and he felt the sudden urge to wrap his hands round his throat. If Elia’s accusations were true this sniveling old man had not only killed his son, but also his siblings.

No, strangling him would be a far too kind death for him.

“Go now,” Rhaegar replied in a hostile tone. “Tell the King that everything is as it should be…I can even send you the bloody sheet to decorate your wall, Grand Maester.”

Arthur stared back at him in disbelief. Ser Oswell Whent bit back a smile and Pycelle looked as pale as snow.

“You heard the Prince, “ Ser Oswell Whent commanded and touched Pycelle’s shoulder. “We should leave.”

“Very well… the King won’t like that…he won’t like that at all,” the old man mumbled and searched Rhaegar’s gaze, as if he hoped he might reconsider his decision.

Rhaegar gave the man a brief nod and retreated back in his chamber. Once he had closed the door behind him he exhaled deeply.

“That was quite the ruckus,” Lyanna remarked with a smile, her disheveled hair falling into her face. She swept it back with a brush of her hand and pulled up the bedding. “I am thankful for your help, but that wasn’t necessary…I am not afraid of this Grand Maester…he can’t be more frightening than Old Nan.”

“Old Nan?” he asked.

“My nursemaid,” she explained. “Now tell me…Why does this old man anger you so much?”

Rhaegar was surprised by her question, but he answered nonetheless.

“He is Lord Tywin Lannister’s spy. Stay away from him…I won't take any more risks.”

Lyanna’s grey eyes widened in shock.

“Are you implying that this old man might try to harm me?”

“Of course,” Rhaegar gave her the hard truth. “Lord Tywin desires a crown for his daughter…that’s the sad truth.”

Lyanna didn’t weep or tremble. She grew very still, like a wolf eying its pray.

“Well, good that I don’t give a flying fuck about Lord Tywin's wishes,” she replied determinedly and hugged the bedding to her chest. Then she lifted her head and searched his gaze. “But there is more…there is something you are not telling me.”

“I don’t …,” he began, but she cut him off.

“You nearly broke that door…this is more personal…this is about the past. I ask you again…please tell me. I need to know what to expect."

He sighed deeply and began to explain.

…


	25. Benjen

**Benjen**

_Radiant_ , that is how he would describe his sister. Ned and Benjen had prepared themselves for a moody Lyanna, but it seemed all their concerns turned out to be completely unfounded.

She even put on one of the dresses their Lord Father had commissioned for her. Benjen didn’t know much about dresses, but the one she wore fitted her perfectly. It was dark blue and decorated with small glittering pearls that looked like snowflakes. Even her usually disheveled hair was properly braided and fastened with a glittering hairnet. The Lyanna he knew would have refused to wear something like that, but it seemed Jorelle managed to turn his sister into a proper lady.

 _Father would be pleased_ , Benjen thought. _And Brandon would howl with laughter._

“Lord Eddard and Lord Benjen,” Prince Rhaegar greeted them with a nervous smile. “I am pleased to have you here, though it is a shame that Lord Rickard couldn’t afford to remain longer.”

“My Lord Father doesn’t like to leave the North,” Ned explained and took a seat at the polished table, made of dark cherry wood. Even here he found dragons carved into the wood, golden flames spiraling over the surface of the table.

Benjen had never seen anything like that and eyed the dragons with great fascination, but he didn’t want to be too obvious and allowed Ned to do the talking.

“You mean he doesn’t want to leave Brandon alone for too long,” Lyanna remarked jestingly. Ned laughed and Benjen chuckled, his heart lighter now that he knew his sister was well.

“Brandon was not happy to be left behind,” Benjen explained and watched as the servants brought the food. It was a simply soup made from pumpkins and potatoes, but it was delicious. Their Lord Father was not a wasteful man and safe for feast days or weddings they contended themselves with all kinds of stew. Benjen still dreamed of the cakes he had feasted on during the wedding, though he would have never admitted it openly.

“There always has to be a Stark in Winterfell,” Lyanna said and broke the bread. “I wish Brandon was here…I miss his loud mouth.”

“You will come to his wedding, won’t you?” Benjen asked in return and slurred down his soup. Ned gave Benjen a disapproving look, but Benjen ignored him. The Prince didn’t seem to mind his imperfect table manners.

“Of course!” Lyanna assured him quickly and lifted her head to look at Prince Rhaegar. “We will attend Brandon’s wedding, won’t we?”

Benjen didn’t know why, but Prince Rhaegar tensed as he first met Benjen’s and then Ned’s gaze.

“Certainly,” he replied at last as he poured wine into his cup. “But nothing is ever certain…My Lord Father has a very changing mind.”

 “Forgive my brother,” Ned added and patted Benjen’s shoulder. “He gets easily excited.”

“There is no need for you to apologize, my Lord,” Prince Rhaegar assured him as the servants brought the next course, roasted chicken accompanied by vegetables and a strange white sauce. “My brother Viserys is of a similar breed…he keeps his nursemaids occupied.”

Both Ned and Lya laughed. Even the Prince smiled again.

“I am not that bad!” Benjen complained and played with the vegetables on his plate. “Lyanna was much worse…at least that is what Old Nan told me…she said you cried all day, driving the servants mad.”

Lyanna blushed, her grey eyes narrowed in obvious anger. The Lyanna he knew would have kicked him and called him “stupid”, but this was no longer the carefree girl he had known. That made him strangely sad, though his sister looked quite happy. It made him realize that their childhood was over.

“Well, I am sure we were all problematic when we were children,” Ned added in a cautious manner. The Prince smiled, but remained silent. It seemed he didn’t know what to make of their discussion.

Lyanna nearly choked on her wine.

“I cannot remember that you ever did anything problematic, Ned,” Lyanna remarked after she had stopped coughing.

Ned frowned, but didn’t comment.

Prince Rhaegar used the moment of silence to speak.

“I heard you are going to Starfall, my Lord,” Prince Rhaegar remarked and met Ned’s gaze. “It is a beautiful place, but Lord Dayne can be quite difficult.”

“Lady Ashara called him a gentle-hearted man,” Ned said and gave the Prince a questioning look. “What makes him so difficult, if I may ask?”

The Prince handed his empty plate to one of the servants and gave Ned an amused smile.

“He is a rather grim man, not easily pleased, but I think he will approve of you.”

Ned’s expression could only be described as worried.

“He will? What makes you think so?”

 “You are quite different from Lady Ashara’s previous suitors,” Prince Rhaegar explained and took a sip from his cup of wine.

Benjen did the same and couldn’t help but to frown that he had to drink juice. He was one and three, almost a man grown, and he was treated like a child.

Only the sight of the apple cake lightened his mood again. It tasted heavenly and the smile curling on Lya’s lips told him that he owed the cake to her.

 _Mayhaps she spoke with the Prince about my plans_ , he thought and angled his head to look at the Prince. His heartbeat sped up as he gathered his courage to ask.

“My Prince,” Benjen stuttered and clutched the table. “There is something…I was hoping…my sister might have told you about my ambitions…that I want to be a knight.”

“Benjen!” Ned admonished him, but the Prince silenced him with a wave of his hand.

“I heard about it,” Prince Rhaegar confirmed and leaned over to squeeze his sister’s hand. She blushed a little, but didn’t complain. “And I have thought about this matter…Ser William Darry, the brother of the currently ruling Lord Darry will soon be in need of a new squire. He is a good man who thought me swordsmanship…I am sure he would be pleased to have you as his squire.”

Benjen tried to hide his disappointment, forcing a smile over his lips. He had hoped for more, but it was still better than simply being married off to some girl from the Vale he had never met.

“I thank you, my Prince,” he replied at last and lowered his head. “I would be pleased to become Ser William’s squire.”

“I will write to our Lord Father once we reach Starfall,” Ned added. “We need to ask for his approval.”

“No need,” Lyanna assured him quickly and gave Benjen a knowing smile. “I have already spoken to our Lord Father before his departure to Winterfell…He agreed to it.”

Despite his initial disappointment Benjen, graced Lyanna with a bright smile.

“I thank you…,” he began, but Lyanna waved her hand as if it was nothing. “I didn’t just do it for you. Ser William visits King’s Landing regularly to attend to his duties, which means I will be able to see you quite often.”

“It is good to see that you are pleased by this arrangement, Lord Benjen,” Prince Rhaegar remarked in a low voice and looked around to make sure that the servants were out of earshot. “Lyanna told me that you aspire to join the Kingsguard. Ser Darry is not of the Kingsguard, but I thought it better to choose Ser William, because that we I can keep you away from the King’s presence…I hope you can understand my reasoning…”

Benjen didn’t know what to say and felt suddenly very ashamed of himself.

He hadn’t even considered that the Mad King might be the reason the Prince’s choice fell on Ser William Darry.

“We understand,” Ned assured the Prince, his face suddenly very serious as his grey eyes darted to Lyanna. “And you will be fine?”

 “I will be fine,” she assured him with a determined look. “Besides, we are soon going to Dragonstone.”

“Lyanna speaks true,” Rhaegar added. “We will soon travel to Dragonstone. We shall stay there for at least three moons…then we will return to court. If all goes well, we shall see each other in good time, Lord Benjen.”

Benjen swallowed hard and gave the Prince a determined look.

“I shall be there.”

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, they are going to Dragonstone, but that is actually not the only reason. Rhaegar is going to visit Rhaenys. Lya goes with him. I will write it from her POV.
> 
> To those who are reading my other story The Red Door: It will finally be updated either on Thursday or Friday. I have the chapter written, but it needs some work. It is nearly elven-thousand words long, which is why it took me so long to write it.


	26. Lyanna

**Lyanna**

 

The air around them was so thick one could have cut it with a knife. Lucerys Velaryon, the Lord of Driftmark was smiling at Rhaegar, but even Lyanna saw that it was feigned.

“It is great honor to have you here, my Prince,” Lucerys Velaryon greeted them. He was a man around the fity, his features reminiscent of a bird. His pale grey eyes and his grey hair falling around his gaunt face made him look like a living corpse. “The Princess will surely be pleased to have you here.”

Rhaegar smiled, but his body was as tense as a bowstring.

“I thankful for your hospitality, my Lord,” Rhaegar replied through clenched teeth. “I would be pleased to see my daughter…at once.”

If Lord Velaryon was frightened it didn’t show on his face.

“Of course,” Lord Velaryon replied and waved his hand at the young boy stirring a fire near the hearth. It was a long hall, held by high pillars and the walls decorated with rich tapestries showing the sigil of House Velaryon, a silver seahorse on a sea green background. “Aurane…please call for the nursemaids.”

The boy lowered his head in understanding. He had a delicate face, framed by long pale hair that fell over his shoulders like rough spun silver. If not for his name, Lyanna might have mistaken him for a Targaryen.

“Of course, my Lord,” the boy replied and darted out of the room.

While the boy went to fetch the handmaids Lord Velaryon tasked the servants to bring bread and salt. Lyanna broke the bread, dipped it in the salt and took a sip from the offered cup of wine. Rhaegar looked more hesitant, his dark purple eyes alight with anger as he regarded the man in front of him. Rhaegar had told her that Lord Lucerys was one of his father’s most loyal supporters.

“Your younger brother looks like a fine young man,” Lyanna complimented after she had placed the cup of wine back on the table.

“The boy is only my half-brother…my Lord Father fathered him on a maid and commanded me to raise him like one of our own…House Valeryon is not as fruitful as it once was,” Lord Velaryon explained in a whispering voice. Rhaegar didn’t lie when he said that he sounded like a snake.

“I see,” Lyanna replied and took in the tapestries. “I didn’t mean to insult you.”

Lord Velaryon smiled.

“Oh, don’t fret about it, Princess. I am not easily insulted.”

Rhaegar was about to add something, but a child-like voice pierced the silence.

“Papa!”

Lyanna had barely any time to take in the young girl that had stormed through the room past Lord Valeryon and hopped straight into Rhaegar’s arms.

“Oh, how I have missed you, my little dragon!” Rhaegar exclaimed as he clutched the little girl to his chest. Only when he had placed her back on the ground was she able to take in her appearance.

Princess Rhaenys had the Dornish looks, sun-kissed skin and black hair that was kept in thick braid bobbing over her shoulder. Her large black eyes were filled with warmth as she placed a kiss on Rhaegar’s cheek and brushed her small fingers through his silver hair.

“Ohw!” Rhaegar feigned a hurt expression when she pulled on his hair. “I want to keep my hair.”

The little girl giggled and let go of his hair.

“Can I go home?” she asked then and gave Rhaegar a hopeful look.

Rhaegar smiled sadly and patted her small head.

“No,” Rhaegar replied, not hiding the truth. Lyanna hardly knew the girl, but felt the sudden urge to strangle this Lord Velaryon. “But Mama sent you presents…for your past nameday.”

A bright smile curled on the little girl’s lips.

“Will Mama come?”

“No, my little dragon,” Rhaegar replied and placed a kiss on her brow. “But I will try my best to make it so. I promise.”

“You shouldn’t give empty promises, my Prince,” Lord Velaryon added in his snake-like voice. “His Grace tasked me to protect the Princess and I shall not disobey the will of our _gracious_ King.”

 _Gracious King_ , Lyanna repeated inwardly and bit her lips _. I doubt you would think that way if he burned you alive, Lord Snake._

Rhaegar held Rhaenys close and looked as if he wanted to murder Lord Snake.

“I shall not disobey our gracious King,” Rhaegar replied in contempt.

“Good,” Lord Velaryon replied and graced the little Princess with a smile. “I think it is time for supper, Princess. You may see your Lord Father later.”

The girl buried her head in Rhaegar’s shoulder as if she wanted to refuse Lord Snake’s command.

“Lord Velaryon is right,” Rhaegar whispered into her ear. “We will see each other after supper…then I will bring your presents.”

This seemed to lighten the girl’s mood and she let go of him. As she turned her around her eyes fell on Lyanna.

Lyanna read confusion and curiosity on her face, but she didn’t dare to introduce herself. The girl was barely three and she doubted she would understand who she was.

Lyanna also had no illusions about her future relationship with the girl. She couldn’t be her mother, even if she wanted. Still, she intended to do her best to become a friend.

The maid lingering at the door took the little girl’s hand and led her away.

“Princess Lyanna,” Lord Snake said and snapped her out of her deep thoughts. “Shall we sup?”

Lyanna forced a smile over her lips and followed after Rhaegar and Lord Snake.

The supper was a tense affair, though the food was delicious. They had roasted salmon accompanied by sea grass salad and a sweet pie. Lyanna hardly touched her food and Rhaegar consumed more wine than usual. Now and then Lord Velaryon made a comment about politics or the latest Small Council meetings. Rhaegar answered politely, but one could sense the hostility between the two men.

She was glad when supper was over, though she decided not to accompany Rhaegar.

“Your daughter would only be confused,” she explained. “And I am in dire need of a bath.”

“I shall explain our situation,” he offered and moved closer to squeeze her hand, but Lyanna shook her head.

“She is so young…it is better to give her time,” she countered and graced him with an assuring smile. “I shall visit you later.”

Rhaegar nodded his head in understanding and let go of her hand, his dark eyes darting to her lips.

 _She bit her lips_ , but put shook her head. This was not the place for displays of affection, especially with Lord Snake’s servants around them.

“We shall speak later,” she repeated and followed after the servant girls, showing her to her chambers.

As promised, she soon received a warm bath, which helped to ease the tension in her body. Her chambers were beautiful as well, giving a nice view on the port beneath, but she still couldn’t bring herself to like this place.

When she was done, she pulled on a simple dress and sent the girls away. Usually, she would have taken Jorelle with her, but Rhaegar had sent her and the rest of their entourage to Dragonstone, to prepare for their arrival.

The girl’s absence made her only more aware of her loneliness. Sure, Rhaegar was often there and she liked his presence, but she had no illusions about the future. She feared the day they would have to return to King’s Landing, but she quickly buried this fear deep in heart before it could take hold of her mind.

 _Stop fretting_ , Lyanna chided herself. Then she opened the door of her chamber and found two guardsmen placed outside. _Mayhaps Rhaegar is right. Better to get this over with. I mustn’t run away._

“I shall see my husband,” she explained quickly, brushed up her skirt and slipped down the corridor. One of the young men followed after her, his halberd raised as if he feared the next enemy awaited her around the corner.

“Princess!” he called after her. “We are tasked to protect you! Please allow me to accompany you!”

Lyanna sighed deeply and stopped in her tracks.

“Very well, but only one of you shall accompany me.”

“Of course,” the young man replied and together they bridged the distance to Rhaegar’s chambers. Like the young man behind her the guardsman at Rhaegar’s door belonged to Dragonstone’s household guard. He was quick to open the door for her and she slipped inside, happy that she could leave her follower behind her.

Princess Rhaenys bright laughter was the first thing she heard.

She babbled happily as Lyanna entered the small anterroom, the floor covered in all kinds of precious things. She saw beautiful dresses and colors, two dolls and small slippers that were just right for the slender feet of a little girl. In between all these precious belongings sat a very fat cat, licking its fur.

As if displeased by her intrusion, the cat’s yellow eyes met hers. The animal didn’t look hostile, but it eyed her in a way that made her uncomfortable.

“Rhaegar,” she addressed the Prince and winced at the nervous tone in her voice. “I fear…the cat doesn’t like me.”

The little Princess turned around, her black eyes darting to Lyanna.

Surprisingly, the girl started to laugh.

“Balerion doesn’t like anybody but me,” the little Princess explained, hopped over the gifts and knelt down to pat the cat’s head. “And food.”

Lyanna was relieved to hear that and swallowed hard, before she addressed the little girl.

“I am Lyanna,” she introduced herself rather abruptly and knelt down before the girl, offering her hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Princess Rhaenys.”

To her utter relief the little girl started to laugh and touched her hair. It was still wet and curled over her shoulder.

“You have pretty hair,” the little girl remarked and showed her toothy grin. “Did Mama send you?”

Lyanna swallowed hard and exchanged a quiet look with Rhaegar.

There was no use in hiding the truth.

“No,” she replied and freed her hair from the girl’s clutch. “But I will make sure that you can see her soon.”

Rhaegar gave her a sad smile and shook his head, but Lyanna gave no empty promises.

 _There has to be a way,_ she thought _. Lord Snake can go and fuck himself for all I care._

…

 


	27. Rhaegar

**Rhaegar**

Lyanna’s bright laughter was like music to his ears. Up and down, left and right the practice blades met. She was quick, but the way she held her blade needed improvement.

Yet her enthusiasm knew no bounds. Every day since their arrival at Dragonstone Lyanna had insisted on training with either with Rhaegar or Arthur.

“Are you not the least bit tired?” Rhaegar asked teasingly, as he parried another blow to his left.

Lyanna laughed and blew a loose strand of hair out of her face, ready to strike at him again.

“I am going to show you!” she declared, her nose wrinkled in concentration ash she dealt him another blow to the neck. She proved quicker than expected and Rhaegar barely managed to parry her attack.

“I nearly got you!” she cursed, her breath labored as she dealt him a barrage of cuts.

 _She is growing tired_ , Rhaegar realized, but it took all his effort to focus on her attack. While she was certainly less experienced, Lyanna was quick and agile like a squirrel.

Lyanna huffed, her face deeply flushed as she aimed at his right side, but in the last moment she changed her mind and aimed for his head. Instinctively, Rhaegar lifted his hand and grabbed her arm, stopping her assault.

“That’s unfair! You cheated!” she complained and tried to free her hand from his grip.

Rhaegar couldn’t help but to chuckle. Seeing her cheeks flushed and her plump lips curled in anger aroused him more than her sweet smiles. There was something wolfish about her face whenever she grew angry.

“You might not believe me, my fair Lady,” Rhaegar informed her with a bright smile and pried the blade from her hands. “But knights do not always act honorably. That’s another lesson you need to learn.”

“Now that I have learned that lesson,” Lyanna replied quickly and frowned when Rhaegar grabbed her hand again, stopping her from retrieving her blade. “Let’s try again.”

“Not today,” Rhaegar replied gently and squeezed her hand. She was very close, her warm breath tickling his cheek. He wanted to kiss her, but Arthur was watching and Rhaegar wanted to avoid another embarrassing incident.

A week ago Arthur came upon them while Lyanna and Rhaegar were fumbling around in the Chamber of the Painted Table. Rhaegar had never felt more embarrassed, though Lyanna had found it incredibly amusing. “But you need rest. I heard breakfast didn’t become you.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Lyanna assured him and her expression softened instantly. “But you are right…we should continue our training on the morrow.”

Rhaegar smiled and leaned down to kiss her cheek.

“I am free today,” Rhaegar whispered in her hear. “And I think you are in dire need of a bath…”

“Only if you join me,” Lyanna countered and slapped his shoulder in a playful manner.

Rhaegar nodded his head, a jolt of desire rushing through his body.

“Was that ever a question?”

Lyanna laughed and followed after him. They put the practice blades away and Rhaegar helped her pull off her armor. Then she did the same for him, before they returned back to grim castle, looming ahead.

As a young boy he had been terribly afraid of the gargoyles and dragons carved into the shiny black walls of Dragonstone. Now he felt a certain amount of fascination for this ancient castle.

Lyanna had her own chambers, but by now none of the servants were surprised when they found her sleeping in his bed.

It didn’t take long before the servants brought hot water to fill the bath. Lyanna usually bathed on her own or in company of her companion Lady Jorelle Flint. In truth, it surprised him that she agreed to his offer. She was by no means prudish, but still very young.

“Hurry up!” Rhaegar told her after he had discarded the last piece of clothing and climbed into the bath. “Or the water will get cold.”

“Impatient, are we?” Lyanna asked playfully and clucked her tongue, before she pulled down her robe and revealed her nakedness. Rhaegar exhaled deeply and made space for her between his legs. She must have felt his hard cock brushing against her thigh, because she snaked down her hand and touched him. “Just as I thought?”

Rhaegar bit back a grunt and leaned down kiss her ear. Lyanna chuckled and kissed him while her hand continued to stroke him. Her touch was almost unbearable, but he endured it as long as possible, his fingernails digging into shoulder. Then she pulled her hand away, a mischievous smile playing on her lips as she turned around and wound one of her arms around his neck.

“I think you would like Winterfell,” she remarked softly and snaked her hand between his legs, touching him again. “We have real hot springs there.”

“One day I shall visit your home,” Rhaegar promised her and bit back a groan as she led his cock between her parted thighs. She arched her back and whimpered, her clumsy movements unable to satisfy him.

“Let me show you,” he whispered and grabbed her hips, showing her how to move up and down. “Like this…,” he trailed off.

Lyanna bit her lip as she continued to move, her eyes impossible wide. Rhaegar brushed his hand through her hair and pulled her against his chest.

He kissed her lips and then her neck, as his hands fondled her breasts. He didn’t know why but they felt bigger, but maybe that was only his imagination.

“Gods…gods !” she muttered, soft moans spilling from her mouth as she tightened her grip on his shoulder. Rhaegar wrapped both his hands around her shoulders and closed his eyes, a moan leaving his mouth as his release came over him all too sudden.

With a trembling smile, Lyanna lifted herself from him and laid her head on his shoulder, her small fingers playing with his silver hair.

“That was lovely,” Lyanna sighed deeply and kissed his cheek. “But it makes me sad we won’t be able to continue doing this.”

Rhaegar lifted his head and searched her face.

“Why is that?”

Lyanna smiled shyly and lifted her hand to touch his cheek.

“I wasn’t quite sure…,” she replied and averted her gaze. “Not until I started to feel sick...,” she trailed off.

Rhaegar felt as if someone had poured cold water over his head. He felt both hot and hold, his voice quivering as his eyes darted to her stomach.

“Are you sure?”

“I missed my moon blood…it is quite regular,” she replied and searched his face. “Are you happy?”

The fear in her voice made his heart coil and brushed his hands over her shoulder.

“I am very happy,” Rhaegar assured her and searched her gaze. “Though that also means that we will have to return to King’s Landing…Gods I need to write to the Citadel…” he trailed off and leaned down to kiss her cheek.

She gave him a questioning look. “Why do you need to write to the Citadel?”

“Because I shall ask them to send a Maester…a specialist on childbearing,” Rhaegar explained and smoothed his hand through her wet hair. “I cannot remove Pycelle from his position, but I doubt the King will refuse consulting another Maester, considering Pycelle’s past failures. I also doubt Pycelle would try doing something stupid if he has another Maester looking over his shoulder. Pycelle is a treacherous cunt, but I am sure he wants to keep his head.”

Lyanna gave him a quiet nod. ”I hope you are right, because I am going to strangle him to death if he harms my babe. And this is no empty promise.”

The water was lukewarm when Lyanna left him, to return to her own chambers, though she promised to join him later for supper.

“You look worried, my Prince,” Arthur remarked upon his entrance, his voice laced with amusement. Rhaegar folded the letter he intended to send to the Citadel and graced Arthur with a weary smile, before giving his old friend the truth.” Lyanna is with child…”

If Arthur was surprised it didn’t show on his face. He only grinned and sat down.

“How did you know?” Rhaegar asked, slightly miffed that Arthur knew about it before him.

“Lady Jorelle hinted at it,” Arthur admitted and averted his gaze. “I promised to keep it a secret.”

Rhaegar nodded his head in understanding, but couldn’t help but to notice the feint blush on his cheeks. He had already noticed that Arthur harbored affections Lady Fint, but now he was sure about it.

“Arthur,” Rhaegar addressed his old friend and exhaled deeply.” Have you ever regretted joining the Kingsguard?”

 “I…” Arthur began and averted his gaze again. “I could never regret serving you, my Prince.”

Then he rose back to his feet and made his way back to the door.

“I shall take my leave from you, my Prince,” Arthur added, dipped his head and quickly slipped out of the room.

Rhaegar didn’t stop him, because he knew Arthur better than anyone.

Arthur had always been like this. The past was something he liked to forget about, but even Arthur would have to face his ghosts one of these days.

 _As do I_ , Rhaegar thought and pulled his signet ring from his finger.

It was time to send a letter.

…


	28. Cersei

**Cersei**

The Stark girl’s stomach was as flat as a plain. _I has to be a lie_ , she thought fresh anger stirring inside her gut. How did the girl manage to do it? Did she find some sort of charm? Or some sort fertility potion? What did she do to get with child in a matter of three moons?

 _Has your nursemaid never told you_ , Jaime had japed this very morning when she visited him. _I can show you how it is done, sweet sister._

Cersei had hit him for his silly comment, but he had laughed only more.

 _Dumb fool_ , she thought and took in the rest of the Stark girl’s appearance. She was garbed in a navy blue dress, embroidered with baby pearls that looked like snowflakes and a wolf embellished on her breast.

 _The girl has no manners_ , Cersei thought as she swept her gaze over the crowd of ladies assembled around Queen Rhaella like a flock of hens. _She ought to dress in black and red, the colours of her husband. Foolish girl._

The Queen beamed like a star, but that was no surprise. In her long marriage she had provided the King only with two living heirs and now she was with child again. _It must be a great comfort to her_ , Cersei thought though she doubted that this child would live. _Pycelle will make sure of it_ , she knew. Her Lord Father had never confirmed to her that the Pycelle had a hand in Prince Aegon’s death, but Cersei was smart enough to make her own conclusions in the matter. It was Pycelle who had declared Princess Elia barren and it was Pycelle who had delivered Queen Rhaella’s sweet babes. Cersei knew her Lord Father better than that. He rarely left things up to fate. _He promised to make me Queen_ , she knew and feigned a smile as the other ladies started to clap.

“…Even the King applauded my son’s decision to consult Maester Marwyn,” Queen Rhaella explained, her purple eyes alight with happiness as she looked at Lady Alerie Tyrell. She was Lord Tyrell’s wife and pregnant with her fourth babe. “I heard from my son that he delivered your second son? Is he as capable as they say?”

 _Marwyn_ , Cersei repeated inwardly and watched as the other ladies listened with rapt attention. _Who the fuck is this Marwyn?_

Lady Alerie smiled and picked a piece of fruit from her silver plate, before elaborating on this Marwyn.

“Aye, a very capable man. My Willas was a difficult birth, but Garlan was there within the matter of hours. I hardly felt any pain…the man is without a doubt a mage. Truly, I was lucky that I was visiting Oldtown when my Garlan decided to be born.”

The ladies giggled.

“A mage,” Cersei repeated in confusion and searched the Queen’s gaze. “I don’t think I understand you, your Grace. Is the King sick?”

Queen Rhaella chuckled lightly as she leaned back in her chair.

“I think you misunderstood,” Queen Rhaella informed her. “Maester Marwyn is not going to attend to my husband. He is here to oversee the birth of my grandson and my own child. My son Prince Rhaegar suggested consulting a specialist on children bearing and considering the difficulties during Prince Aegon’s birth and my other babes I welcome this development.”

Cersei felt as if someone had poured cold water over her head.

“But…” she began in a disbelieving tone. “But Pycelle is the Grand Maester? Surely, the King does not intend to do away with him?”

“Grand Maester Pycelle is an old man, Lady Cersei,” the Stark girl added sweetly and sipped on her cup of watered wine. “My husband thought it would be of great help to Grand Maester Pycelle if he received assistance by a specialist. Nobody intends to do away with the Grand Maester.”

Cersei felt liked slapped, her fists balled in the seam of her dress as she looked at the brazen little whore.

 _How dare she_ , she thought and buried her fingernails in her thighs. _How dare she insult me like this._

“Princess Lyanna speaks true,” the Queen added gently. “Grand Maester Pycelle is a revered member of Small Council, but the King’s decision is final. I hope your Lord Father won’t take it as an insult, but the King longs for a grandson.”

Cersei could barely look at the Queen.

“Of course,” she replied through clenched teeth. “It is understandable…forgive my silly question.”

“It is quite alright, my Lady,” Princess Lyanna replied and chuckled. “I am sure it must be overwhelming for you to be back at court after such a long absence.”

Cersei was speechless. She had been at court since the tender age of ten and two. _This little whore knows nothing. I will put you in your place. Wait and see._

The Queen seemed to sense the tension between them and graced Cersei with a smile.

“But it is good that Lady Cersei has returned to me,” the Queen added. “I am glad to have you back.”

“Of course, your Grace,” Lyanna replied softly, a ghost of a smile still apparent on her lips as her grey eyes met Cersei’s across the table. “And I hope we will be good friends, Lady Cersei. I am sure I can learn much from you.”

“A good idea,” the Queen agreed wholeheartedly. “Don’t you agree, Lady Cersei?”

Cersei nodded her head, unable to speak. With a trembling hand she picked up her cup and drowned it. It was honeyed wine, but she longed for something stronger to wash away the anger and shame clenching around her heart.

 _We shall never be friends_ , she wanted to shout across the table, but she everyone was staring at her.

“Of course,” she managed to say at last and smiled at the Stark girl. It took all her effort, but she managed it barely. “We shall be good friends, my Princess.” _Only when hell freezes over and the sun starts to rise in the west. Never._

“It pleases me to hear it,” Queen Rhaella said and shifted her attention back to Lady Alerie Tyrell.

“I forgot to ask…How long until your babe is born, my Lady?” the Queen inquired sweetly. “Do you wish for a boy or a girl?”

Lady Alerie beamed.

“In six moons,” Lady Alerie replied proudly. “And after three boys I am hoping for a girl.”

“I am surprised that Lord Mace does not hope for another son, sister,” Lady Lynesse Hightower asked Lady Alerie. It was easy to forget that the two were sisters. Lady Lynesse Hightower was a dainty, dim-witted girl while Lady Alerie was a plump, dark-haired woman with a certain amount of wit.

“Mace has little say in that, sweet sister,” Lady Alerie replied and brushed her hand over her stomach. “That’s for the gods to decide, though I have to say I have been frequenting the Sept more than usual. They say praying to the Maiden will give you beautiful daughters and praying to the Father healthy sons.”

Then Lady Alerie turned to smile at the Stark girl. “All I can say is this…the Father gave me three wonderful sons, but I am sure the gods will give you a son without such superstitious nonsense…forgive the ramblings of an old woman.”

This earned her another round of giggles.

Cersei could only roll her eyes. _Mayhaps I misjudged her. She is even more stupid than her dim-witted sister. Fuck the gods. I will find a way, even without Pycelle._

The Stark girl laughed.

“I thank you for your advice, my Lady,” the Stark girl returned, her voice laced with tension. _Of course_ , Cersei realized. _The people of the North worship these strange gods that live in trees_. “Queen Rhaella is instructing me in the finer details of the Faith and we planned a visit to the Sept of Baelor. Mayhaps, you wish to join us? I am sure the Maiden will hear your plea at such a holy place and grant you the sweet girl your heart longs for.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Lady Alerie replied her eyes darting to the Stark girl’s flat stomach. “And I hope the Father grants you a healthy son…a Prince.”

 _To wed your son to your sweet girl_ , Cersei thought as she saw Lady Alerie’s bright smile. _But that will never be. The day will come when you will be begging to wed your sweet girl to my son._

“I hope so,” the Stark girl said. “But I shall be glad to have a girl if the gods decide otherwise. Important is that the child his healthy."

Lady Alerie’s smile died, a strange expression taking hold of her face. _Foolish girl_ , Cersei thought. _Girls are worth nothing if you don’t have one or two sons. Even Mace Tyrell’s dim-witted wife knows that._

The Stark girl seemed to recognize her misstep and forced a smile over her lips.

“Of course…I foremost hope for a Prince,” she corrected herself. “I hope for Princes. Girls can come later.”

“Good to hear,” the Queen added. “Now let’s eat. I am sure you are all hungry.”

The rest of the evening passed quickly and Cersei used it well, taking in the Stark girl’s ladies-in-waiting. Lady Lynesse Hightower she already knew, but there were two more, Lady Lysa Tully and Lady Selyse Florent. Lady Lysa was no danger. She was a shy girl, who barely managed to speak a full sentence throughout the whole evening. She also had nothing of her sister’s beauty. _A grey mouse_ , Cersei would have called her. Selyse Florent was even worse. She was a hideous plain woman, who hardly ever smiled. She always looked as if she had swallowed a lemon.

 _The Princess is in dire need of a proper lady-in-waiting_ , Cersei decided right there as she watched the girl depart in company of her ladies. _I shall speak with the Queen about it. I am sure she will agree._

_…_


	29. Jaime

**Jaime**

A cool breeze was touching his skin as they walked along the muddy trail leading to the godswood. The King had a bout of sickness and Princess Lyanna thought it a good idea to take Prince Viserys Targaryen for a walk. The Queen had agreed with her and thus Jaime was sent to guard them.

It was the first time he had the chance to get a closer look at Prince Rhaegar’s wife. And while he couldn’t deny Princess Lyanna’s beauty she was nothing compare to Cersei. Princess Lyanna had a long chipped face reminiscent of a wolf while Cersei’s face was full and could have belonged to the Maiden. Truly, comparing Cersei and Princess Lyanna was as if one tried to compare the moon and the sun. And yet Jaime knew that Cersei’s ambitions were nothing but delusional. Beauty was one thing, but even Jaime loved Cersei for other reasons than her beauty. In truth it was her strong character that made him love her. Surely, the Prince chose Princess Lyanna for other reasons than her beauty.

“Ser Jaime!” Prince Viserys’ bright laughter snapped him out of his stupor. “Look! So many different trees!”

Jaime forced a smile over his lips.

“I can see the trees, my Prince,” he confirmed and wondered how a boy could be so excited about a bunch of trees. That the godswood of the Red Keep was not particularly impressive to behold only helped to increase this feeling of disbelief. It was nothing more than an acre of elm, alder and black cottonwood trees, a great oak, covered in vines and red flowers, forming its heart tree.

Yet for Prince Viserys, who was usually locked up for his own protection, it must be a piece of freedom.

Princess Lyanna seemed equally delighted as her gaze swept over the flowers growing near the oak tree.

“Lyanna!” Prince Viserys exclaimed excitedly. “Look…those flowers look like small dragons…they have wings.”

Princess Lyanna lifted up her skirt and made her way over to them to take a closer look at the flowers. The petals of the red flowers looked indeed like small dragon wings.

“I agree, my Prince,” the Princess added and grinned. “The flower really looks like a dragon,” she trailed off as her gaze flickered to Jaime, who had been observing them from the distance.

“Ser Jaime,” she said, a smile curling on her pink lips. “You know more about the south than me…Do you know the name of this flower?”

Jaime was taken back by her question, but he indeed knew the name of the flowers and this was Prince Rhaegar’s wife, no matter how much Cersei disliked her. He had every intention to be polite to her.

“I do, my Princess,” he confirmed politely. “This flower is called red dragonfly. It is a common flower in the Westerlands and the south in general.”

Princess Lyanna smiled and brushed her hand over Prince Viserys’ shoulder. It was a lovely smile, soft and playful at once. Cersei used to smile like this before their Lady Mother’s death and before their Lord Father infected her with his ambitions. The Cersei he had known could be playful like this, but now there was always an ulterior motive hidden behind her smiles. Jaime loved his father, but he always disliked how he expected everyone to give up their own desires to promote the “Lannister name”. _One of these days his ambitions are going to cost him his head_ , Jaime thought and brushed his hand over the pommel of his sword. He had resided in King’s Landing for only a few moons, but these few moons were enough to make him hate the King. Only a day after the Queen’s return he had been assigned to watch duty. The sounds he had heard from the Queen’s chambers that night had frightened him to the bones and only Ser Oswell’s firm word had kept him back from storming inside. _We are here to protect the King,_ Ser Oswell had told him. _The sooner you learn that_ , _the better._

“Ser Jaime,” the Princess’ voice snapped him back to the present. “You don’t seem very happy to be here.”

Jaime blinked, completely taken back by her remark. _Why would she even care_ , he wondered and tried to hide his surprise. _Get a hold of yourself._

“I do not know what you are referring to, my Princess,” he replied and feigned a smile. “I am well.”

“I wasn’t talking about your well-being,” she replied and brushed a wayward curl out of her face. She wore a grey dress trimmed with white silk that suited her pale skin. “But you don’t seem very happy to be a member of the Kingsguard. At least that is my impression.”

It was true what she said, but Jaime couldn’t bring herself to admit it.

“I am honoured to serve in the Kingsguard,” he replied in a polite manner. “Unlike many I never dreamed of becoming a high lord.”

The Princess’ face lightened up like a candle, a knowing smile curling on her lips.

“I hear you, good Ser,” the Princess said and moved closer, though still keeping an appropriate amount of distance. Seeing her up close, he realized how young she was. "I often wish I was born with a cock between my legs, but sadly I was born as the only daughter of a Lord Paramount. I had luck to be wed to the Prince, but these days I cannot even ride a horse, because the King fears for his “unborn grandson”. What I am trying to say…I quite envy you, Ser Jaime.”

Jaime was speechless.

This seemed to amuse Princess Lyanna, for she started to laugh.

“Don’t envy me, Princess,” he whispered his answer. “Guarding the Queen is not a pleasant task, especially not with the King attending to her nightly. At least that has stopped now that the Queen is expecting again.”

His blunt words washed the smile from Princess Lyanna’s lips and soon a very different expression took hold of her youthful face. Determination or perhaps rage, Jaime couldn’t say.

“I know what you are talking about, Ser Jaime,” she whispered and clenched her teeth. “Never once in my life have I wished for the death of another human being. I hope the vicious troll remains the only one.”

Jaime couldn’t help but to wrinkle his brows in confusion.

“Vicious troll…,” he began, but the Princess’ amused smile silenced him.

She moved an inch closer, her voice barely above a whisper. “That’s what the Prince calls _his grace_.”

“I see,” Jaime stuttered, a bit perplexed to hear this. The Prince always made such a serious impression on him. He didn’t take him for a jester. “A fitting name.”

Princess Lyanna chuckled and lifted her skirt.

Prince Viserys was waving his hands, probably because he found another fascinating flower or tree.

“A fitting name,” she repeated and left to join the Prince.

The rest of the evening passed quickly, but Jaime still felt exhausted when he returned to his chambers. The constant heat of King’s Landing was still getting to him.

“Jaime,” a familiar voice greeted him when he entered. It was Cersei, who was garbed in a dream of red silk. Her smile was as bright as a star, which surprised him. She had avoided him for weeks after she had heard from the Princess’ pregnancy. Something must have changed her mood. _This can’t be good_ , Jaime thought as he bolted the door behind him.

“What are you doing here?” he asked her. “I told you not to come here without my permission. What if anyone saw you?”

Cersei’s smile died and her brows rose to the top of her head.

“Why this displeasure?” she asked seductively. “Are you not happy to see me?”

Jaime was happy to see her, but her words before the wedding had hurt him deeply.

“I am happy to see you,” he confirmed, but kept his distance. “But I am worried about your safety. You are taking too many risks.”

“I know how far I can go,” Cersei replied and pouted. Then she rose to her feet and brushed her hand over his shoulder. Her touch was enough to stir his cock to life. That it had been weeks since he last felt her touch didn’t help.

She saw what she was doing to him and grinned, leaning in to kiss him, but Jaime stopped her by pressing his hand against her shoulder.

“Cersei,” he began, deciding to voice his displeasure. “You have been avoiding me for weeks and now you are suddenly here. What happened?”

Cersei frowned, but enclosed his hand with hers while her other one wandered down to his breeches. Jaime couldn’t help but to squirm and he had to bite back a gasp.

“I will tell you once you I am finished with you,” she declared in a mischievous tone and went to her knees, quickly opening the laces of his breeches. All reason parted from his flesh as she put his cock in her mouth and started to pleasure him. _Yes…gods, yes._

When Cersei was done she rose back to her feet, a triumphant grin spreading over her crimson lips.

“That was quick,” she teased and brushed his seed away. “And to answer your question…I am so happy because the Queen approved my appointment as one of Princess Lyanna’s ladies. The Prince will soon forget about his child bride once he has a proper woman around him. Besides, he will have no use of her now that she is with child.”

Jaime shouldn’t have been surprised, but it still hurt. _I am a fool._

“Cersei,” he addressed her and quickly laced up his breeches, trying to forget his shame. _You damn fool. You damn weakling._ “Are you really that blind? The Prince could have had you a hundred times…,” he continued, but was silenced by a slap on his shoulder.

“How dare you!” she snapped, anger burning in her jade eyes. “You don’t know anything about the Prince. I am sure it is only honour that is holding him back. He surely knows that father would never forgive him if he took me to bed. Besides, have you seen the Stark girl’s hips? No child will make it through those narrow hips...I will be Queen…I know it.”

Jaime rubbed his shoulder and started to laugh.

“And what if she doesn’t die?” he asked in a mocking tone. “What will you do then? Do you think you can remain unmarried until the Stark girl drops dead? You are deluding yourself, sweet sister.”

“I shall be Queen!” she replied, shouting at the top of her lungs, her cheeks slightly flushed. “I shall make sure of it.”

Then she gathered her skirts and stormed off, leaving him standing there like a fool.

…


	30. Ashara

**Ashara**

The Sunset Sea glowed in bright colours of sky blue and emerald green. The day was hot, the world blurred before her eyes, as she greeted her guests. It was a strange sight to behold these two Northmen prowling through Dorne’s barren landscape. Their discomfort was written all over their sweat-soaked faces, though that didn’t dim the smile curling on Ned’s lips. He was not a man prone to smiles, which made his smiles all the more precious to her.

“Welcome, to Starfall, my Lords!” she greeted them and met them half-away down the swirling marble steps, leading up to the castle. She had taken great care in choosing her dress. It was her favourite, one made of a bright lilac cloth that shone brightly whenever the sun fell upon it.

“I thank you, my Lady,” Ned relied gently and placed a kiss on her hand. Then he straightened himself and patted Benjen’s shoulder. The young boy followed his brother’s example and placed a sloppy kiss on her hand.

He seemed unaccustomed to ladies as was evident by his flushed cheeks.

“My sister counts seven namedays,“ Ashara offered kindly. “I am sure she would be pleased to spend time with you, my young Lord.”

Benjen Stark didn’t appear all too enthusiastic, but remained polite. “I shall be pleased to meet your sister, my Lady.”

“That is good to hear,” Ashara chuckled and smiled at Ned. They had exchanged letters, but it was different to have him here, in her home, though she still feared her Lord Father’s reaction. He was a rather blunt man, who would have surely preferred for her to wed a Dornishman and not a man from the far away North. “Please come along. I shall lead you.”

Then she led them up the swirling steps, leading back to the castle walls looming in front of them. Like the steps they were carved from white marble and glittered in the bright midday sun like the surface of a polished blade.

In the courtyard they were greeted by the guards, who allowed them entrance into the keep. Inside the air was cool and pleasant, which seemed to relieve the two Northmen.

Starfall was not as spacious as other castles, but beautiful tapestries graced each wall. One had been gifted to them by King Maeker, who had wed Lady Dyanna Dayne. Said tapestry showed a massive red three-headed dragon on a shiny black background.

Inside their guests received fresh bread and a cup of wine, though Benjen’s was watered down and mixed with honey.

The boy didn’t seem bothered and drowned the cup in one go, before his grey-blue eyes darted to the tapestry.

“A dragon,” he said, his eyes alight with interest. “Lya promised me to show me the dragon skulls beneath the keep, but it will be a while before I see her again.”

“Lya,” Ashara repeated questioningly.

“That is what we call our sister,” Ned explained. “Though I suppose now we have to call her Princess Lyanna. Well, past habits die hard.”

“Indeed,” Ashara agreed and waved her hand at the door, leading to another staircase. “Please follow after me. As I said before…I am sure my Lord Father is dying to meet you.”

“I hope so,” Ned replied sceptically. Ashara was surprised by that, but kept her thoughts to herself, her heart heartbeat increasing as she pushed the door open.

Her father’s solar was a spacious room full of light. The scent of flowers filled her nostrils as she stepped inside and angled her head to find her father seated in the corner of the room. He was nearly sixty and his health wasn’t the best. His gaunt and wrinkled face was a testament to this, but his eyes still carried the same clear colour of violet as they had always been, though he had long lost his eyesight.

“Allyria come here!” he grumbled impatiently. Her little sister, who had been seated near the window, rushed over to their father, a soft smile playing on her lips. Like Ashara she was graced with dark hair and violet eyes, but her features were sharper, though not less beautiful.

Still, her voice was soft and sweet.

“I am here, Lord Father,” she confirmed and took his hand. Then she dipped her head. “It is a pleasure to meet you, my Lords.”

“The pleasure is mine, my Lady,” Ned replied, his grey eyes darting back to her Lord Father. “And my Lord.”

No smile graced her Lord Father’s lips.

“So you are from the North?” he asked rather bluntly. “They say it snows there all year. I hate the cold. How can you endure it, my Lord?”

If Ned was insulted it didn’t show on his face. On the contrary, he played a long.

“I am used to it, my Lord,” Ned replied calmly. “I also wonder how you can stand the heat.”

A moment of heavy silence followed, before her Lord Father started to laugh. He seemed amused and tapped his staff on the ground, as if to emphasise his feelings.

“It seems you are an honest man,” he remarked after he had regained his composure. “Well, I suppose we should eat. Your travel must have been long and troublesome and I shan’t be called a bad host.”

Then he patted Allyria’s hand. “Go, my sweet girl and tell the servants to bring the food.”

“At once, Lord father,” Allyria confirmed sweetly and fluttered out of the room. True to her word, the servants arrived minutes later, carrying food and fresh cups. They served roasted chicken, seasoned with pepper and saffron and accompanied by green beans.

“I hope the Dornish wine is your taste, my Lord,” her father grumbled and picked the cup from the servant girl’s hand, bringing it to his lips. “Arbour makes my stomach twist.”

“And Dornish wine mine,” Benjen added awkwardly after he had taken a sip from his cup. “It is too sour.”

“Another honest mouth,” Her Lord Father remarked and handed the cup back to the servant girl. “Are all Northmen this outspoken?”

Ned nearly choked on his cup.

“I do not know, my Lord,” Ned replied hesitatingly. “I spent a great part of my youth in the Vale. I was Lord Jon Arryn’s ward.”

“So I heard,” her father confirmed and leaned forward. “I assume Lord Rickard originally intended to find you a match in the Vale? A good idea considering the matches he intended for your brother and your sister, the now Princess Lyanna. Seems to me that King Aerys isn’t as mad as people think. Any allegiance with the Stormlands is now out of the question. Well, I suppose your father received a better match in the end, but Lord Hoster and Lord Robert must be quite angered their little ploy was shattered to pieces.”

Ashara felt as if someone had poured a bucket of cold water of her head. She was used to her father’s blunt character, but this was not what she had expected.

“Father…,” she began, but he silenced her with a wave of his hand. “Silent, daughter. I want to hear Lord Stark’s opinion on this matter. I want to know if he was aware of the rumours that his father was involved in a plot against the King.”

Ned paled, but he didn’t look afraid. He simply lowered his head and answered in a calm and composed voice.

“I do not know my father’s mind, my Lord. If he had such treacherous plans as you say he didn’t inform me about them. However, my Lord Father, like many worry about the King’s growing madness. Does it really surprise you that there are those who desire to see him removed?”

“No,” her Lord Father replied boldly and his pale lips twisted into a smile. “But the more important question is who your father’s friends intended as King Aerys’ replacement. Some say that Lord Robert was this intended replacement. He has Targaryen blood running through his veins and it wouldn’t be the first time a Baratheon toyed with the idea of deposing a Targaryen King.”

For the first time, Ashara saw a glimpse of the wolf residing in Ned’s breast.

“Robert certainly has his failures,” he granted through clenched teeth. “But being a King is the last thing he would want. Besides, my sister is wed to Rhaegar Targaryen and not Robert Baratheon. My Lord Father would never go against his own blood.”

“That is good to hear,” her father replied and chuckled. “I angered you, didn’t I? Well, that was my intention. I wanted to see what kind of a man you are and I was not disappointed. I disagree with your assessment about Lord Baratheon, but I also hold no love for bootlickers. There are those who easily abandon their friends, but it seems you are not one of these men. This assures me that you will not abandon my daughter, should I give my approval to this match, but before we speak about that this matter there is something else I need to know.”

“I see,” Ned said and looked rather perplexed by her father’s changed demeanour. “What do you wish to know, my Lord?”

“You are the second son,” he remarked blunt as ever. “Will you receive a lordship of your own?”

“Moat Cailin,” Ned replied quickly. “My father plans to rebuild it. I shall be Lord of Moat Cailin.”

“The Neck,” her father repeated. “Well, it could be worse. How long will it take before this castle will be rebuilt?”

“A year,” Ned replied. Ashara felt disappointed, but that was to be expected. “Or maybe two. I do not know. Besides, I cannot get wed before my older brother. Custom dictates that he weds before me.”

“Well, I shall not stand in the way of my daughter’s happiness. That you are brother to the future Queen also speaks in your favour, my Lord.”

“And that means?” Ned asked in a quiet voice.

“That you have my approval to court my daughter.”

Ashara sighed in relief and brought her cup to her lips.

It was a bumpy beginning, but a beginning nonetheless.

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While writing Ashara's father I couldn't help but to picture Hugh Laurie in Dr. House. He is a bit of an asshole, but he does have a good core.
> 
> Next: Lyanna. Maybe even tomorrow. We will see.


	31. Lyanna

**Lyanna**

“All should be well, Princess. It is quite common that the child starts to move at this stage of pregnancy. There is no need to be afraid.” Maester Marwyn remarked after he had touched every part of swollen stomach.

“I thank you, Archmaester,” she thanked him and brushed down her nightgown. She felt a bit silly about her fears, but she had never experienced pregnancy and felt at times at a loss of her wits. First came the terrible bouts of sickness and then her breasts started to leak. Three of her dresses had been ruined and at times she couldn’t help but to compare herself with a cow. That she was locked up inside her chambers for most of the day worsened her condition. She had her ladies and Rhaegar to keep her company, but his duties kept him busy these days. Even the Queen was more occupied with her own pregnancy to take much care of Lyanna. “You helped to ease my fears. I just wanted to make sure that everything is alright. I apologize for keeping you from your duties. I am aware that the Queen has more need of you than I. Is she feeling better?”

“Much better,” he assured her and graced her with a smile. He was a short and squat man with enormous hands. His hair was still brown, but the first streaks of grey lined his temples. “It was nothing serious, but considering the Queen’s advanced age it is expected that her would be complications. She still has a long way ahead of her, but I am confident that this babe shall live.”

“May the gods grant it,” Lyanna whispered a silent prayer to the Old Gods. Moons ago she had last visited the small godswood her in the Red Keep in company of her ladies, but now even this freedom had been taken from her. The King insisted on keeping her inside, least a gust of wind could give her a cold. That she had grown up in the North seemed to have escaped the King.

“May the gods grant it,” Marwyn agreed and took his leave. Not long after Cersei Lannister and young Lynesse Hightower came to help her dress. Lyanna quite liked the Hightower girl, but Cersei Lannister she had welcomed rather unwillingly among her ladies. That the Queen had insisted upon it made it only harder to refuse. She had of course complained to Rhaegar and he had shared her displeasure about the matter, but all he had done so far was to promise her that he would speak with his mother.

 _He won’t do a thing_ , she was suddenly convinced and felt close to tears. This was another thing she hated about pregnancies. At times she broke out in tears and at other times she felt the sudden urge to strangle the next person coming her way.

Cersei Lannister didn’t even have to open her mouth to stir this desire inside her. All she needed to do was to give her one of her false smiles.

“You should choose the red dress, Princess,” Lady Lynesse suggested. It was no doubt a beautiful dress, but Lyanna hated Myrish silk. It made her skin itch and she longed to wear one of the summer dresses she had recently commissioned.

“I prefer the pale one,” she replied gently, but as always Cersei Lannister couldn’t simply accept a command and had to open her mouth.

“Lynesse is right. You ought to dress in the colours of your husband’s house.”

“I want the pale one,” Lyanna insisted stubbornly and met Cersei’s gaze. Lyanna knew why she had wormed herself into the Queen’s good graces and more than once she had seen her stare longingly at Rhaegar. _She wants him in her bed_ , she knew and the fact that Lyanna often felt like a leaking cow only reinforced her fears. While Rhaegar had never paid Cersei more attention than her other ladies, he had not outrightly dismissed her when Lyanna had asked it of him _. I need Lord Tywin’s loyalty_ , he had told her and Lyanna had nearly banished him from her bed. Not that he had shared her bed ever since they had left Dragonstone, but he still sought her bed to sleep next to her.

That Cersei Lannister was incredibly beautiful made it only worse. Compared to her, Lyanna felt almost like peasant, though she tried not to show her insecurities.

“Very well,” Cersei replied and helped her put on her pale dress while Lynesse helped her braid her hair.

When they were done, Lyanna broke her fast in company of all her ladies, which also included Lady Selyse Florent and Lady Lysa Tully. Selyse was a grim girl, who preferred to sit over her needlework rather than to engage in talks of gossip. Lysa was the complete opposite. She loved gossip and often spent hours listening to Lynesse Hightowers’ newest findings about the inhabitants of the Red Keep. Cersei occasionally added her thoughts, but rarely bared her true thoughts to the world.

“What did the Archmaester say?” Lynesse asked after she had finished eating her boiled egg.

“The babe is well,” Lyanna confirmed and took a sip from the tea Maester Marwyn had prescribed her against stomach ailment. “He says the movement is normal. A strong kicker he called my babe.”

“That is good,” Selyse added, straight to the point. “That means it is a healthy boy. Boys are always strong kickers.”

“May it be so,” Lynesse added with a hopeful smile. She was a sweet girl, but certainly not the sharpest person. She was very trusting and Cersei had managed to turn her into her little underling in a matter of weeks, which only left Lysa and Selyse for Lyanna. While Selyse was never out-rightly unfriendly Lyanna didn’t know how to speak to her. Lysa was even worse, because she was incredibly shy and sensible at heart. Sometimes she even started to cry whenever she helped Lyanna undress.

 _Your pregnancy upsets her_ , Lady Lynesse had told her not long ago. _They say Lysa lost a babe_ , the girl had told her in secret. _She told me that her father made her drink moon tea to do away with it. She also said that she was impregnated by one of her father’s wards. It was this foolish boy who had challenged your brother for a duel._

Lyanna had been horrified when she heard this. Hoster Tully had been such a polite man when he came to visit them at Winterfell, but then Lyanna also knew that he was a man with ambitions. Besides, her Lord Father would have probably done the same had she gotten pregnant out of wedlock.

 _I shall find her a good match_ , she decided right there. _To make up for Brandon’s foolish deeds._

“Princess,” she heard Lynesse soft voice ringing in her ears. “I think it is time for us to leave for the Sept.”

She had been impressed by the Sept of Baelor, but now she felt only boredom whenever she walked the polished floors and listened to the Septa’s sleep-inducing voice. By now she had gained a stead-fast knowledge in the Faith of the Seven, but that didn’t change how wrong it felt for her to pray to these strange gods.

Especially, today the hours seemed to pass far too slowly, because she was eagerly expecting Rhaegar’s return.

 _He promised_ , she knew and recalled his last letter, though she was still a little gross with him that he hadn’t done anything against Cersei.

It was close to dusk when they returned to her chambers and supped on honeyed duck accompanied by onions cooked in gravy. It was a pleasant meal, but as always Lyanna ate hesitatingly and waited until her ladies had taken their first bites.

“You may leave now,” she told Selyse and Lysa after they had finished their meal.

Lyanna felt weary and she also felt disappointed that Rhaegar had not yet returned as he had promised her. It was not the first time, but she had found little sleep that night and her nerves were unusually strained.

Only Cersei and Lynesse remained, to help her out of her dress. Once she had dared to send them on their way, insisting that she could undress herself, but as expected Cersei had gone to the Queen, who had asked kindly of Lyanna to allow her ladies to do their duty.

Once all was said and done she sent them away and lay down in her bed. Jorelle, who had claimed that she was too occupied this evening, came to join her not long after.

“Where have you been?” Lyanna asked when her friend entered the chamber, an oil-candle in hand. Her other ladies-in-waiting might look down on Jorelle for her low birth, but to Lyanna she was a dear friend to whom she could bare her heart to. “Have you been working all this time?”

“I wasn’t working all day,” Jorelle replied and placed the candle on a nearby table. “The truth is…I was feeling rather sickly, but I feel much better now.”

Lyanna smiled, just happy to see a friendly face.

“Will you stay?” Lyanna asked hopeful.

Jorelle shook her head. “Not tonight. Perhaps tomorrow, but I have to be elsewhere. I hope you can forgive me.”

Lyanna sighed deeply and graced her friend with a smile.

“Of course I forgive you.”

With a smile curling on her lips Jorelle departed, probably to attend to whatever business she had in mind while Lyanna tried her best to sleep.

Sadly, her babe made it hard for her to find restful sleep. He was indeed a strong kicker, but eventually even her little grew tired and allowed Lyanna to drift off to sleep.

The bright sunlight blinded momentarily as she turned to her side, but stopped-halfway when she noticed someone’s presence.

Her heart warmed at Rhaegar’s sight, sleeping not far from her. _He kept his promise,_ she realized and shifted carefully, mindful not to wake him.

She had always liked looking at him, especially when he was asleep. He always carried such a grim expression during the day, but when he was asleep he carried a serene expression that made him look much younger than he was.

 _He must have been exhausted_ , she realized and leaned forward to brush his silver locks out of his face. He was still dressed in a white tunic and his breeches, his discarded cloak hanging on the nearby desk.

She almost felt guilty when he stirred from his sleep, though the happy, sleepy smile curling on his lips told her that he wasn’t bothered by her actions.

“Did you sleep well?” she asked softly and was about to pull her hand away, but Rhaegar caught it.

“Aye, I slept well,” he confirmed teasingly. “Until you woke me.”

He pulled himself up and let go of her hand. Then he brushed his hair out of his face and graced her with a smile.

“I didn’t expect you,” Lyanna remarked and returned her smile. “When did you arrive?”

“In the middle of the night,” he replied and leaned closer, his hand brushing over her face. She was still angry with him, but it proved harder than expected when he was smiling at her like this. “It was a long and tedious travel, but it will be worth it in the end.”

Lyanna nodded her head and moved even closer, her breath mingling with his.

“Who exactly did you meet?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled and leaned closer to whisper his answer into her ear.

“The Queen of Thorns.”

His answer confused her only more. She had never heard of this Queen of Thorns.

“Who?”

“Lord Mace Tyrell’s mother,” he explained and pulled away, his hand brushing her hair out of her face. “She promised me the help of the Reach, but worries what the other kingdoms will do, namely Dorne and the Stormlands. Sadly, I share her fears, but we will have to make do with what we have.”

Lyanna nodded her head in determination and touched his cheek, trying to reassure him.

“Robert would never fight against my brother. He will probably keep out of the fighting.”

“I hope so,” Rhaegar replied and leaned in her touch. “And I think the same goes for the Dornish. Prince Doran might be upset, but I am sure he wants to see my father removed.”

“What about Rhaenys?”

“Lord Monford has written me,” Rhaegar explained and his whole face lightened up like a room full of candles. “He recently returned to Driftmark and it seems he is going to stay. He will take her away from there once everything is in place.”

“Another six moons until my brother’s wedding,” Lyanna realized sadly and brushed her hand over her swollen stomach. The babe was moving again and as always she felt the sudden urge to pee.

“Are you well?” Rhaegar asked and carried a rather distraught expression. “You look pale.”

“The babe is stealing my sleep,” she admitted. “And Lady Cersei’s presence doesn’t help. I did as you bid me…I have them taste the food before me and I never drink anything that Lady Cersei gives me, but that doesn’t change the fact that I want her gone. Please ask you mother to take her back.”

Rhaegar nodded his head in confirmation and leaned down to touch her stomach. He placed a kiss there and then he graced her with an assuring smile.

“I shall speak with my mother on the morrow,” he promised. “I think I know a way we can get rid of her.”

“How?” Lyanna asked curiously and felt stupid for doubting him. “Will you tell me?”

He laughed and kissed her, parting her lips. She slapped his shoulder when he pulled away, but she knew that it was necessary. The King would disapprove of such nightly activities as it could endanger his grandson or so the rat Pycelle had insisted.

_Fuck him! Fuck him and the King!_

“I shall tell you,” Rhaegar promised and pulled the bedding back over her shoulder. “But allow me to undress before I come back to bed.”

“Do you not have to go to one your council meetings?”

“Not today,” he replied, as he pulled off his tunic and then his breeches, followed by his smallclothes. Then he slipped back beneath the bedding and snuggled close to her. “But I think this should send the right massage to Lady Cersei. When will she come to help you dress?”

Lyanna burst out in laughter when she realized what he meant.

“Around the seventh hour,” she replied and promptly pulled off her nightgown, before dropping it on the floor.

“This should also help to send the right message,” she declared cheerfully and snuggled close to him. “But we still have an hour.”

“Indeed,” he confirmed softly and slipped beneath the bedding, placing soft kisses between her thighs…

…


	32. Rhaegar

**Rhaegar**

Upon Lady Cersei’s and Lady Lynesse’s entrance Rhaegar was occupied with dressing himself, while Lyanna was still covered by the bedding.

“Oh, forgive us!” Lynesse Hightower piped out, her face crimson red as she averted her gaze. “We didn’t know!”

Cersei Lannister didn’t speak at all. She stood there frozen in shock, her jade eyes impossible wide as Rhaegar smiled at her.

“Do not fret, my Lady,” he replied and rose to his feet after he had pulled on his boots. “I doubt you heard about my arrival.”

“We did not…,” Cersei Lannister stuttered helplessly, her green eyes narrowed and fixed at Lyanna, who was currently retrieving her nightgown from the floor. That she was as naked as her nameday only helped to drive the point home.

And it worked perfectly. In the blink of a moment Cersei Lannister’s looked as if all blood had drained out of her face and.

“Are you not well, my Lady?” Rhaegar asked in an overly sweet voice. “You look so pale? Do you wish to sit down?”

“I am well,” She stuttered again, her green eyes darting back to Rhaegar. “I am well, my Prince. I am honoured by your concern.”

“No need,” Rhaegar assured her and even rose to his feet to take her hand. Then he placed a kiss on her knuckles and graced her with a feigned smile.

Once he had dropped her hand, she stared at it as if Rhaegar had performed a spell on it.

Rhaegar used the diversion and shifted his attention back to Lyanna who had put on her nightgown and sat on the edge of the bed. She was trying to make a serious face, but Rhaegar could see that she was close to bursting out in laughter.

“I shall leave you now, my love,” he replied and put special emphasis on the word “my love”, before leaning down to place a kiss on Lyanna’s lips.

Turning back to look at Lady Cersei he found her glaring at the wall, her hands grabbing her skirts.

“My wife is all yours,” he declared at last and slipped outside the door, where he found Ser Oswell waiting for him. He must have been grinning like a fool, because Ser Oswell blinked at him not only once but twice. Usually, it was Arthur who was guarding him, but he had not felt well and Rhaegar had dismissed him to rest.

“That is the result of good night sleep,” he informed Ser Oswell, who gave him a sceptical look.

“As you say, my Prince.”

“I shall visit my mother,” Rhaegar informed him quickly, wishing to forgo this odd interaction. He felt like a naughty child that was caught stealing sweets.

“I am right behind you, my Prince,” Ser Oswell informed him and followed after him in silence.

His mother was abed when he entered her chambers. Archemaester Marwyn and GrandMaester Pycelle were also there, though it was Marwyn who was examining his mother while Pycelle was seated on a nearby chair. As usual, he was half asleep. He was an old man, but Rhaegar still felt the urge to strangle him for even stepping a foot into his mother’s chambers.

“My dear son,” Rhaella said when she laid eyes on him. She wore a simple nightgown and lounged on a soft featherbed while Marwyn was touching her stomach. “I wasn’t aware of your return.”

“I arrived in the middle of the night,” he explained and sat down on the edge of the bed while Marwyn continued his work. She seemed so focused on his work that he didn’t even notice his presence.

Rhaegar watched in silence, allowing him to do his work. That was after all the reason Rhaegar had called him here.

“All is well,” he declared at last. “The heartbeat is strong, but I recommend for you to stay abed, your Grace, though a walk every day should be no problem.”

His mother sighed in relief and graced Marwyn with a brilliant smile.

“I thank you, Archmaester. This helps to calm my mind.”

“I thank you as well,” Rhaegar added his voice. “My wife is also satisfied with your work.”

“I always do my best,” the elderly man replied and dipped his head. Then he patted Pycelle’ shoulder to rouse him from his sleep.

“What...?” the elderly man asked and looked quite befuddled.

“We are finished here, Grand Maester,” Marwyn explained as Pycelle was still trying to make sense of the whole situation.

“Oh,” he said, his eyes growing impossibly wide as he noticed Rhaegar’s presence. “Of course…All is well, I hope?”

“So the Archmaester assured me,” Rhaegar confirmed and had a hard time keeping his feelings at bay. “Would you mind leaving us now, Grand Maester? I would like to speak alone with my mother.”

“Of course,” Pycelle replied and lowered his head. “Of course.”

Once they had left Rhaegar shifted his attention back to his mother, who gave him a curious look.

“How was your travel?”

“Long and troublesome,” Rhaegar replied and leaned over to place a kiss on her hand. Then he took time to take in her appearance. His mother looked indeed well. Her cheeks were rosy and her smile was true. “You look well, mother.”

“I am well,” she confirmed and graced him with a knowing smile. “But I doubt that is the only reason you came to see me?”

Rhaegar sighed deeply and nodded his head in confirmation.

“You are quite right. There is something that occupies Lyanna and she brought this matter to my attention in the hope I might be able to convince you to do something about it. It concerns Lady Cersei.”

His mother’s smile vanished.

“Is there a problem?”

“Oh, no,” Rhaegar replied and feigned surprise. “On the contrary. Lyanna is very pleased to have her, but she also believes that Lady Cersei is not happy in her current position and that she only asked to be made a Lady-in-waiting to Lyanna, because that was the wish of her father. It seems Lady Cersei voiced these feelings to Lady Jorelle and that is why Lyanna believes it would be for the best if Lady Cersei returns into your employ. Serving a Queen is a much greater honour than serving a Princess.”

A moment of silence passed between them, before his mother took his hand and kissed it.

“My son,” she said in a serious voice. “I am getting old, but I know when you are lying to me. What is the matter?”

Damn it, Rhaegar cursed inwardly. I should have known that she would see through it.

“Tell me,” his mother prodded as if he was a little boy instead of a grown man. “I am your mother. You can tell me everything.”

“The truth is,” Rhaegar admitted. “Lyanna and Lady Cersei do not get along. And given Lyanna’s fragile conditions I think it would be best for Lady Cersei to return to your employ. I am speaking out of concern for my wife and my unborn child, mother. I know how important the Lannisters are, but I think Lyanna’s health is more important.”

“I fully agree,” his mother replied, a shocked expression taking hold of her face. She looked upset. “But why did you not tell me? Why make up such silly lies? Is it because of my fragile state?”

Rhaegar decided to be honest.

“Sadly, that is the reason, dear mother.”

She frowned and pulled her hand away.

“I am pregnant, but not made of glass. I am still the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and I want to be informed about such matters. Gods, I feel like a complete fool.”

“You are no fool,” Rhaegar assured her gently. “All is well. Lyanna will be pleased to hear that Lady Cersei will return to your side. I doubt even Lady Cersei can claim to be insulted. As I said…there is a far greater honour in serving a Queen than a Princess. I doubt even Lord Tywin will be insulted, as long as we can provide a credible reason.”

“Indeed,” his mother agreed. “I shall take care of it. I doubt your father will mind. In fact, I believe he will find it amusing.”

But not Lord Tywin, Rhaegar thought. He remained a while longer to talk about his travel, though he omitted the real purpose, before he took his leave and returned to Lyanna.

She was breaking her fast with her ladies when Rhaegar entered her chamber and Lyanna dismissed them kindly, offering to call for one of the servants to bring him a plate.

Rhaegar gladly accepted the offer and soon they were supping on roasted chicken accompanied by onions and wild vegetables.

“The babe likes everything roasted,” Lyanna explained to him in a cheerful tone after he had given her the joyful news.

“He is a dragon,” Rhaegar replied and took a sip from his cup of wine. “Though a little one. I once read that dragons only eat roasted meat.”

Lyanna gave him an amused smile while she attacked the vegetables with her fork. “How can you be so sure that it will be a boy? Would a girl upset you?”

Rhaegar was taken back by the question. He had never questioned that it would be a boy, because of the vision he had experienced on the Island of the Faces. There he had seen a boy with a Stark face and Rhaegar’s eyes dark indigo eyes. No, he was sure. This babe was the babe from his dreams.

Yet he couldn’t tell that Lyanna. She might think me mad. Now is not the time.

“You are quite right,” Rhaegar admitted. “It could be a girl, but my Lord Father would certainly prefer a boy.”

“I don’t mind a boy,” Lyanna replied and shrugged her shoulders. “I already have a name for each.”

“Have you?” he asked curiously.

She grinned and put her fork away.

“Jon for a boy and Lyarra for a girl.”

Rhaegar couldn’t help but to frown. He doubted his Lord Father would accept  a Stark name for his grandson, but he didn’t want to dim the good mood.

“Jon is a bit too plain for a Prince,” he countered and earned himself a frown.

“Jon Stark was a King,” came the prompt answer. “He didn’t have dragons, but he was still a King.”

“That may be,” Rhaegar replied in a heavy voice. “But my Lord Father won’t accept a Stark name for his grandson. It is that simple.”

Lyanna’s frown only deepened.

“Not even the name of my child I can choose. What comes next? Do I have to show his Grace the content of my chamber pot?”

Rhaegar wouldn’t put it past his father to demand such a silly thing, but that was not the point.

“I always though my heir would be called Aegon,” he admitted. “But I doubt that would be appropriate.”

Lyanna nodded her head and made a face. Then she brushed her hair out of her face and leaned back in her chair.

“Very well,” she said at last and tapped her fingers impatiently on the table. “I am waiting for your suggestions.”

To Rhaegar’s shame he hadn’t put much thought in the matter.

“I know for sure that he won’t be called Aerys,” he whispered and received an approving nod.

“What about Maekar or Daeron? Maekar was King Aegon the Unlikely’s father and Daeron was the name of one of my stillborn brothers. Or perhaps Aemon? I have a Grand-Uncle who serves in the Night’s Watch and Aemon the Dragonknight is quite famous too. Sadly, none of these two were Kings. I am sure my Lord Father would want a kingly name.”

“Kings,” Lyanna repeated in frustration and wrinkled her brows in concentration. “That leaves us with a small number of names. Aegon, Jaehaerys, Viserys, Aerys, Daeron, Maekar, Maegor, Aenys…are the ones that come to my mind, but of all these names I could only live with Jaehaerys or Aenys or Daeron.”

“Daeron might send a bad massage to Dorne,” Rhaegar countered. “And of Aenys my My Lord Father would not approve, because he was a rather weak King. So that leaves us with Jaehaerys.”

“Jaehaerys,” Lyanna repeated. “That is a mouthful of a name, but at least both of of them were good Kings. I can live with that, but we still have to decide on a girl’s name.”

“That’s easy,” Rhaegar replied. “Rhaella for my mother.”

Lyanna nodded her head in understanding, but didn’t seem all too engrossed.

“I would prefer Alysanne,” Lyanna admitted. “I hope you are not insulted.”

Rhaegar was surprised that she would think that.

“Alysanne is a good name,” he agreed and graced her with a smile. “We will name the babe…,” he began, but a knock on the door silenced him.

To his surprise, it was Arthur Dayne. At his side was Lady Jorelle, who looked as pale as a sheet of paper.

Lyanna smiled when she noticed Jorelle’s presence but going by the tense expression on Arthur’s face he didn’t come here to exchange pleasantries.

“Arthur,” Rhaegar asked and searched his friend’s face. “What is the matter?”

Arthur exhaled deeply and dropped his head.

“I came here to confess my transgression.”

…


	33. Arthur

**Arthur**

Arthur could scarcely look at Rhaegar or for that matter Princess Lyanna. Jorelle was equally silent, though he could hear her quiet breathing.

It had been a consensual thing, but that didn’t change the fact that he gave in to his weakness.

_I should have never allowed it_ , he thought and lifted his gaze to look at Rhaegar.  _I must set things right._

“The King cannot know about this,” Rhaegar said at last when Arthur’s gaze met his across the room. “He would kill you. So much I know.”

Then his gaze darted to Jorelle, who was seated next to Princess Lyanna. Her round face was very pale and she kept staring at her folded hands. Seeing her fear, he felt the urge to embrace her, to protect her, but that could never be.  _I am such a fool_ , he thought.  _By seeking a ghost, I destroyed a life._

“And Lady Jorelle cannot stay either,” Rhaegar explained in a heavy voice. “The child is evidence…It would be best for you to return to the North, my Lady.”

“That would not be good for the child,” Princess Lyanna countered disapprovingly and touched Jorelle’s shoulder. “Bastards do not have an easy life in the North. It is not as easy as you think, Rhaegar.”

Rhaegar sighed. “I suppose I could also find a match for her. It would take a bit of bribing, but I do not know if said husband would accept a stranger’s child.”

“How is that any better?” Lyanna asked. “Selling her off to some indebted knight.”

“Please,” Jorelle said at last and lifted her gaze. She was shaking. “Do not fret on my account, my Prince. I shall go home and bother you now more…,” she continued, but Arthur cut her off.

He was sure Rhaegar would disapprove of this suggestion, but it was the best solution.

“There is another solution, my Prince,” Arthur explained and searched Rhaegar’s face. “I could take Jorelle to Starfall. All I need is the King’s permission to leave.”

Rhaegar looked surprised.

“You haven’t spoken to your father since you joined the Kingsguard, have you?” Rhaegar asked skeptically. “How can you be sure that he would allow her to stay? As far as I remember, he intended for you to wed and father trueborn heirs. I doubt this is what he had in mind.”

“I would wed her if I could, but that is not possible,” Arthur defended himself. “What you say about my father is true, but he won’t sent away the mother of his grandchild. His disapproval has always been reserved for me. Ashara will help me to convince him.”

“Very well,” Rhaegar agreed hesitatingly. “But we will go together. I have visited Starfall numerous times. Not even my father would think it strange if I pay another visit. Most importantly, that way you are not forced to lie to the King.”

Arthur felt relief, but Jorelle looked still very distraught.

“Did you hear, Jorelle?” Arthur asked softly, though he didn’t dare to touch her. “I shall bring you to Starfall. I am sure my sisters will be pleased to meet you.”

“I heard you,” Jorelle confirmed in an almost flustered tone. Then she lifted her head and started to fumble with the hem of her dress. Seeing her like this he realized how young she was. “But that is not necessary. I do not wish to burden your family with this problem. My relatives shall take care of me.”

“Nonsense!” Princess Lyanna insisted, who had been listening in silence. “You are acting as if Ser Arthur didn’t contribute anything to your current state. It is only right that he wants to make it right.”

Jorelle blushed. “I know that, but the Prince should stay here…with you.”

Realization washed over Princess Lyanna’s face, a sad smile curling on her lips as she regarded her friend.

“There is still enough time,” Lyanna assured her craned her neck to look at Rhaegar. “I doubt it takes two moons to travel to Starfall, or does it?”

“That depends on the weather,” Rhaegar replied and shrugged his shoulder. “But I do think so. You do not need to fret about us, Lady Jorelle.”

“Exactly,” Lyanna added enthusiastically. “And by the time I am giving birth I will probably curse Rhaegar. Mayhaps you should keep him in Starfall until the babe is born…for his own safety.”

“Oh, I am used to worse. I think I can endure a bit of cursing,” Rhaegar replied, a ghost of a smile tugging on his lips. “I shall return in time. You have my promise.”

“Good to hear,” Lyanna replied and smiled warmly.

The sky was dreary and pale when they stepped out unto the courtyard, where Princess Lyanna awaited them in company of Jorelle. Rhaegar had suggested for Jorelle to leave first and to meet them along the way. Rhaegar had chosen loyal men for this task, but even that didn’t seem to ease Jorelle’s fears. She was older than Princess’ Lyanna, but in that moment she looked like a frightened child.

It made Arthur only more aware of his guilt.

“Ned wrote me that Starfall is very beautiful and when all is said and done, I shall call you back to Dragonstone. There you will always be welcome,” Princess Lyanna assured Jorelle.

Jorelle smiled at Princess Lyanna and then lifted her head to look at Arthur and Rhaegar.

“I thank you, my Prince,” she said quietly and lowered her head. “I am thankful for your help.”

“Arthur is my friend,” Rhaegar replied, patted Arthur’s shoulder and took Princess Lyanna’s hand. “And I think it is best if give them a bit of privacy.”

Arthur gave Rhaegar a thankful nod, before he stepped towards Jorelle.

She looked very nervous and played with the clasp of her cloak.

“And you really think your father will allow me to stay?” she asked a after a moment of silence had passed between them.

“I have no doubt,” Arthur assured her and squeezed her hand. He felt the urge to embrace her or to place a kiss on her cheek, but Rhaegar’s men were watching.  _Mayhaps once Rhaegar is King, but that is still far away_. “I am not going to lie to you. My father is a stubborn man, but he wouldn’t want his grandchild to grow up as some disgraced bastard in the faraway North. He is far too proud for that.”

Jorelle chuckled, but no smile reached her face.

“I hope you are right.”

…


	34. Cersei

**Cersei**

Cersei had chosen her darkest dress to hide her movements. At first, she had told herself that the Stark girl’s thin hips would be her undoing, but after the last two incidents Cersei had realized that she needed to take matters into her own hands if she wanted to get rid of the Stark girl.

First, the Stark girl had dared humiliating her in front of the Prince and then she had dared to go to the Queen, demanding her removal from her position as Lady-in-waiting.

 _If the little whore thinks she can get rid of me that easily she is very wrong_ , Cersei thought as she rounded the corner, leading to the servant quarters.

Her smile grew only brighter when she noticed the girl she had been waiting for. Said girl was called Larra and Cersei had brought her here from Casterly Rock when she was ten and two.

“There you are,” Cersei remarked as she took in the girl’s flustered expression. “Has anyone noticed your absence?”

“No, M’Lady,” the girl replied warily. “How can I be of service, M’Lady?”

Cersei smiled and slipped her hand in the vest of her cloak, where she kept a small bag filled with crushed leaves. At the first glance it looked like tea leaves, but in truth it was something far sinister…

As she opened the bag Cersei’s smile only intensified, but the girl grew only more confused.

“What is this, M’Lady?”

“Tea leaves,” Cersei explained. “I want you to add these to the tea leaves used for the Princess’ tea.”

“This…I cannot do that…M’Lady,” the girl protested, but Cersei grabbed her arm, forcing her to look at her. “You will do as I say or your other sisters working in Casterly Rock will end up earning their next wages as harlots. Do you understand?”

The girl trembled, her blue eyes impossible wide.

“Do you understand?” Cersei repeated her question and tightened her grip on the girl’s arm.

“I understand…,” the girl stuttered helplessly and pulled on her arm, but there was more that needed to be done.

“But do not use all leaves,” Cersei continued to explain her plan. “I want you to hide the rest among Lysa Tully’s belonging. Do you understand?”

The girl’s mouth was wide open, like a baby bird waiting for a worm, but Cersei had little patience and slapped the girl’s cheek.

“Are you deaf?”

“No…no,” the girl stuttered again and rubbed her crimson cheek, her eyes filled with tears. “I understand…I understand my task, M’Lady. Please forgive me.”

“Good,” Cersei replied and was satisfied to have her answer. “Now leave and do I as I asked of you. And remember…one word and I will have your petty little head.”

No further word of protest left the girl’s mouth. She simply dipped her head and slipped away to the shadows.

Once Cersei had returned to her chambers, she tried her best to sleep, but her fast-beating heart didn’t allow her to find any rest. On the morrow this nightmare would finally be over. On the morrow the Stark whore and her whelp would be gone and if all turned out as she planned, they would blame it on the weepy Tully girl.

That way she could kill two flies at once. A war is what would force Prince Rhaegar to choose sides and after the death of the Stark whore he would have no other choice but to turn to her Lord Father for help.

She could already imagine it. Her Lord Father would place a crown atop the Prince’s head and Cersei would stand next to him as his wife and Queen.

 _I shall make the Prince forget about his loss_ , she thought as she re-fastened her cloak and slipped out of her chambers. _I shall give him many sons, even more beautiful than Jaime._

The first sunlight was already streaming through the curved windows as she knocked on Jaime’s chambers. She had hoped for a quick tumble, to ease her excitement, but Jaime was already fully-dressed and his jade eyes were narrowed in disapproval.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asked and grabbed her arm more roughly than usual.

“I just wanted to visit you,” she replied in a softer, more seductive voice. “Why are you so rough with me?”

Her approach worked and he let go of her. She even believed to read guilt on his face.

“I apologize,” he replied softly and lowered his head. “But I told you how dangerous it is for you to come here. Besides, I don’t have time today. Oswell is tasked to guard the Queen while they are sending me to guard the Princess.”

Cersei frowned. Now the Stark whore was even stealing her brother from her.

 _Soon it will be over_ , she assured herself. _Soon I will have my crown._

Thus, she smiled and played along.

“I see, sweet brother,” she said and raised herself on her tiptoes to place a kiss on Jaime’s lips. “I shall leave you then.”

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cersei's plan won't work out the way she likes. I would never kill Lyanna or Jon.


	35. Jaime

**Jaime**

Spread before Princess Lyanna was a board of cyvasse. Jaime had brought the game with him to entertain the Princess’ during confinement and it seemed she was thoroughly intrigued by the colorful pieces.

Princess Lyanna’s other ladies appeared more hesitant. Selyse Florent frowned disapprovingly as her eyes inspected the colorful surface of the board. Lysa Tully seemed interested enough, but she was shy as ever as she picked up on of the catapults and turned it left and right, as if she wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. Only Lynesse Hightower seemed to share Princess Lyanna’s enthusiasm, a bright smile curling on her rosy lips.

“I have never heard of this game,” Princess Lyanna remarked at last and placed the white dragon on the board. “Will you teach us?”

Jaime nodded his head in confirmation.

“I has been a long time that I have last played this game,” he admitted and leaned over the board.

“How did you learn it then, Ser Jaime?” Lynesse Hightower asked as Jaime separated the units into two equal heaps, consisting of ten pieces each. There was a spearman, a crossbowman, a light horse, a heavy horse, a trebuchet, a catapult, a dragon and at last the king.

“My little brother Tyrion likes to play this game,” Jaime admitted and felt slightly flustered by his admission. That Tyrion was also repeatedly winning this game he kept to himself. “But as I said before…I haven’t played it for a long time.”

“Then let us start with something easy,” Princess Lyanna suggested enthusiastically and pulled one of her feet up while the other one dangled from the chair and twitched with excitement. If not for her swollen belly one could have thought of her as an unburdened young girl. “What is the purpose of this game?”

Jaime grinned and picked up the King, holding it into the light falling through the windows. Outside he could hear the rattling of the window panes and the sound of birds.

“To win you need to capture the King,” Jaime explained. “It sounds rather simple, but it isn’t all that easy if your enemy arranges his units properly. The different tiles help to limit the movement of the units.”

“I see,” Lyanna replied and picked up a reddish-brown tile. “So, what do the different colors signify?”

“The reddish-brown tiles are mountains, the blue ones are water, the dark-green ones are forests and the light-green ones are grass,” he explained and pointed at last at the golden tile. “And this one is meant to symbolize a fortress.”

Lyanna frowned as did Lady Selyse Florent, who had long returned to her needlework. Lynesse Hightower giggled as she took in the golden tile. “Why are there not more fortresses?”

“I have no idea,” Jaime admitted openly and continued to explain the uses of each tile in detail. Once he was finished, he did the same for the different units. Not much to his surprise, Princess Lyanna listened with great interest, her hand occasionally brushing over her swollen belly, but otherwise fully focused on his explanations. Lynesse Hightower had lost interest half-way through his explanations and was now building a colorful tower with the different tiles. Selyse Florent’s frown had only deepened, but she remained silent. Only Lysa Tully still listened attentively, her large blue eyes fixed on him. It wasn’t the first time that he had noticed her staring, but that was nothing new for him. Jaime was always aware of his beauty, though he couldn’t care less about these other girls when he had Cersei in his bed.

Once he was finished with his explanations, Princess Lyanna picked the tiles from the nearby heap and started to arrange them on her side of the board.

“Well, then let’s start!” she announced and flashed him challenging look. “Or are you afraid, Ser Jaime?”

Jaime returned her smile. “Let’s play.”

And they did. By late evening they had played a dozen of rounds. The first three rounds had clearly gone to him, but in time Lyanna had managed to outdo him and had even managed to win the last two games. She was a natural, as Tyrion would have said, though she lacked his little brother’s clever schemes. Lyanna Stark’s mind was that of a soldier and not of a schemer like Tyrion. Jaime was similar, though that didn’t keep him from employing Tyrion’s clever tricks.

They would have probably continued like this, but Selyse Florent reminded Princess Lyanna sternly that it was time to make space for the tea and the cakes.

Thus, they played another around while the ladies and the Princess sipped one their tea. Jaime was also offered a cup, but he refused, claiming that a man of the Kingsguard could not drink tea. A piece of cake he accepted gracefully, but his mind was far too occupied with the game.

Ser Oswell would probably roll his eyes when he knew what they were doing, but it was worth it all when he saw the Princess’ smile.

“I got your King again!” she declared triumphantly and put a piece of apple pie into her mouth. Then she took a sip from the tea and pushed his King over. “See, the King is dead.”

Jaime couldn’t help but to frown. He had expected to do better this time around.

“It seems so,” Jaime agreed and leaned back in his chair. “I should have paid more attention to your elephant. I won’t commit the same mistake again.”

“Good to hear,” Lyanna replied and quickly started to re-arrange her units and tiles. “I always like a good challenge.”

Jaime didn’t hesitate to do the same and soon they were again moving their pieces over the board. Jaime managed to take her elephant, spearman and light horse in a quick succession of movements, but the Princess paid him back with the clever use of her dragon. He lost his spearmen, his elephant and even his crossbowman in quick succession.

“Damn the dragon!” Jaime cursed. “I always found the dragon far too powerful.”

“Prince Rhaegar would disagree with you,” Lyanna remarked and graced him with an amused smile. “But I do agree with you, Ser Jaime. I like this game, but there should be more animals. Why only dragons? There should be wolves, griffons and lions. Don’t you agree, Ser Jaime?”

“I fully agree,” Jaime replied. “Though my brother Tyrion would disagree with you. He loves the dragon.”

“A tower would also be nice,” Lynesse added cheerfully.

“Or perhaps a trout?” Lysa added shyly and re-filled Lyanna’s cup the third time that evening.

Lyanna chuckled and patted the girl’s arm as she took a sip from the cup. Then she angled her head and looked over to Selyse Florent, who was seated near the window, her needlework in hand.

“Or a fox. They are such clever animals,” Lyanna added teasingly, rose to her feet and walked towards the windows. “What do you think, my Lady?”

Lady Florent lifted her head, her mouth a thin pale line. It seems she didn’t quite understand the jape the Princess was trying to make on her account. The sigil of House Florent was a fox.

“I do not quite understand, Princess,” the grim girl replied and wrinkled her nose as her eyes wandered over the board.  _This one should be a Septa_ , Jaime thought in amusement.

Lysa and Lynesse giggled, but were promptly silenced by Lady Florent’s sharp look.

“I wish we could take a walk outside,” Lyanna remarked and sighed deeply as she pressed her face against the painted window. “It looks pleasantly warm.”

“The King forbade it,” Selyse Florent answered promptly. “And you are in confinement.”

Princess Lyanna frowned and huffed. Her cheeks were flushed, and she waved with her hand as if to fan herself fresh air.

“May I at least open the window panes?” Lyanna asked, one hand on her swollen belly and the other pressed against the nearby wall. “I am sweating like a pig.”

“The wind could be harmful,” Lady Florent countered, but received only a grimace.

“I agree with the Princess,” Lynesse Hightower added her voice and rose to her feet to stand beside Princess Lyanna. “A bit of fresh air cannot be harmful.”

Lyanna smiled and together they pulled open the window panes. The fresh air streaming into the room smelled of fish and salt, but it helped to chase away the stifling heat.

Yet it didn’t seem to grant the Princess the kind of ease she was hoping for. Her cheeks were flushed and she was biting her lips as she stood near the open window, the soft breeze stirring her hair.

 _Something is wrong_ , was Jaime’s first thought, but when she grimaced and grabbed her belly, he was sure about it.

Jaime put the pieces away and stepped towards her.

“Mayhaps we should close the window?” he suggested, but Lyanna didn’t answer. Instead she started to sway and pulled on the skirt of her dress.

Jaime didn’t hesitate to grab her shoulder, steadying her while Lynesse Hightower jumped to her feet and took her other arm.

Suddenly, the young girl started to shriek and backed away, her bright blue eyes fixed on Princess Lyanna’s skirt.

Jaime only tightened his grip on Lyanna’s shoulder when he saw the blood pooling between her legs.

“What are you waiting for!” he snapped at Lynesse Hightower. “Call for the Maester!”

…

 


	36. Rhaella

**Rhaella**

Rhaella felt like an invalid as she was forced to hold unto Ser Oswell’s arm to bridge the distance between her chambers and the chambers of her good-daughter. Rhaella had barely reached her sixth moon and most of the days she felt exhausted. Yet it was not her own health that occupied her mind, but that of her good-daughter.

Hours ago, the poor girl had collapsed, but not even Rhaella knew what had transpired. All she knew was what Ser Jaime and the ladies had told her.

 _Suddenly, the Princess started to bleed_ , Lynesse Hightower had told her in a weeping voice and could scarcely be consoled.

Rhaella didn’t know what to think. She had experienced more loss than most women, but her good-daughter had been so healthy and full of life.

_How did it happen? How could the gods have allowed it?_

Upon reaching her good-daughter’s chambers, he spotted the Archmaester’s assistant slipping out of the room. He was a pale-faced boy who nearly stumbled over his own feet when he spotted her.

“How is my good-daughter?” she inquired once the boy had regained his composure. “Is the Archmaester still attending to her?”

“You may step inside, your Grace,” the boy stuttered and opened the door for her, allowing her entrance. “The Archmaester has delivered a Prince.”

“A Prince,” she repeated and searched the boy’s face. “Alive?”

“Aye,” the boy confirmed. “The Archmaester has already called for the nursemaid. He can tell you more, your Grace.”

Relief washed over Rhaella, but the fear was still there, clenching around her heart.

Thus, she exhaled deeply and stepped inside.

The smell of herbs filled her nose as she moved along the anteroom, followed by the smell of blood and something she could not identify.

There she let go of Ser Oswell’s arm and bid him to wait outside, before entering the chamber. Inside she found the Archmaester looming over a pale-faced Lyanna and the nursemaid in company of two other servant girls.

Said nursemaid was the first one to notice he presence and crept closer, showing her the bundled-up babe. _Small_ , was the first thought that came to her mind when she laid eyes on this small, slumbering babe, graced with dark hair and a pale round head. The babe’s silence scared her, but then it gave a whimper and then another one, louder than before, its’s head flushed as it ought to be.

“The babe is small, but strong,” the Archmeaster explained as he washed his hands in a bowl of water, offered to him by one of the servant girls. He looked weary and his robes were flecked with blood and other liquids she couldn’t identify.

Briefly, her gaze darted to Lyanna, who was wrapped up in white sheets, pulled up to her chin. She looked small and pale, much younger than her years. Just looking at her made Rhaella’s heart ache.

“Does that mean the babe will live?” Rhaella asked straight to the point. The King, her husband, would demand answers and she needed to prepare herself for the worst. “Can you guarantee it, Archmaester? Because if you can’t you need to tell me. I fear the King won’t allow another failure.”

“The babe’s lungs are strong, though compared to a fully-developed babe he looks rather small. I can’t guarantee anything, but my experience tells me that the babe is going to live.”

Rhaella nodded her head and stepped closer. Then she jerked her head at Lyanna’s sleeping form.

“What about my good-daughter?”

“She is young and healthy,” the Archmeaster confirmed in a quiet and weary voice. “She should recover in time, though that makes the whole event even stranger to me.”

“I do not quite understand,” Rhaella repeated and searched the Archmaester’s face. “Are you implying that something was amiss about this early labor?”

“I fear so,” the Archmaester confirmed. “Early labor and other complications are usually pre-ceded by symptoms. I examined the Princess this very morning. I would have noticed if something was amiss. I assure you, your Grace. The Princess was perfectly healthy when I last examined her.”

Rhaella was taken back by his words.

“Are you trying to imply that someone might have targeted my good-daughter?”

The Archmaester shrugged his shoulders, but his serious expression confirmed to her what he had told her before.

“I cannot say,” the Archmaester replied. “I have taken blood from the Princess and shall investigate further into this matter, your Grace.”

Rhaella, who was still star-struck by everything, shook her head. Her head was whirling with all this new information and she was torn between informing the King and swearing everyone to silence.

This was a most delicate matter. _I have to be careful._

“Please, do investigate,” she bid the Archmaester. “But please tell me…What do you think could have caused this mess? Do you think it was some sort of poison?”

“Most likely, your Grace,” the Archmaester replied and stroked his beard, pondering her words for a moment. “Which is why recommend questioning the other ladies on all substances the Princess has consumed.”

Rhaella nodded her head in understanding.

“It shall be done as you say, Archmaester, but we have to keep this a secret until we know more. The King might do something hasty.”

The Archmaester nodded his head in confirmation.

“Indeed, your Grace.”

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyanna is not barren.


	37. Ashara

**Ashara**

Ashara watched as the riders poured into the courtyard, the three-headed-dragon waving above their heads.

She recognized her brother immediately. He always towered at least a head over Prince Rhaegar and his snow white cloak made him easily discernible from the other guardsman.

The Prince had of course sent them a raven to announce his coming, yet he had failed to mention the reason.

This had aroused Ashara’s suspicions, though she hadn’t voiced them to Ned, who had been equally surprised, because Princess Lyanna was expecting a babe.

 _The Prince must have good reasons for his actions_ , she thought and watched as Arthur climbed from his saddle.

The Prince, who had ridden in front of the column, approached Ashara while Arthur's attention was focused on a girl, still seated on her horse.

She was strangely familiar, but Ashara couldn’t place her name. Ned on the other hand seemed to know her, because his light grey eyes were narrowed in confusion as he laid eyes on the girl.

“It’s Lady Jorelle Flint,” he whispered to Ashara and finally she realized who the girl was. She was one of Princess Lyanna’s handmaids. “What is she doing here?”

Ashara nodded her head, her stomach twisting in worry and confusion as she saw Arthur’s pale face.

 _What did you do, brother_ , she wondered and brushed these fears aside as she dropped a curtsy for Prince Rhaegar.

“It is a pleasure to have you here, my Prince,” she greeted softly. “I apologize that my Lord Father is not here to greet you personally. His bad eye sight is ailing him, but he awaits you inside. My oldest brother Ryon has recently returned from Sunspear and will also be there to greet you. My youngest sister Allyria as well.”

“I shall be pleased to see Lord Dayne and the rest of your family,” Prince Rhaegar replied with a hesitant smile as his gaze flickered from Ashara to Ned. “It is also good to see you, Lord Stark. Lyanna sends her greetings.”

“I see,” Ned replied and dipped his head, as his pale grey eyes wandered to Lady Jorelle. “But why did you bring Lady Jorelle here?”

“It is a rather delicate topic,” Arthur explained in a subdued tone. He looked nervous and tense. “I hope you can forgive me if I do not wish to discuss the matter out here on the courtyard.”

“Of course,” Ned replied and frowned.

Ashara patted his shoulder and graced Arthur with an assuring smile. Arthur and their Lord Father hadn’t spoken to each other in years and she was sure it was hard for him to come back here.

“Shall we face father?”

Arthur exhaled deeply and nodded his head in confirmation. He looked as if he was ready to face battle. A battle with his fiercest enemy, their Lord Father.

“We shall.”

“So, you have returned,” their Lord Father stated in a grumbling voice and tabbed his cane on the ground. “What trouble brings you Starfall?”

Then, before Arthur could even answer, their Lord Father’s unseeing eyes darted in Prince Rhaegar's direction.

“Forgive me, my Prince if I didn’t greet you first, but it is a great pleasure for me to see my prideful son humbled.”

Prince Rhaegar and Ned looked uncomfortable, but the Prince remained polite as ever.

“There is no need for such formality, my Lord,” Prince Rhaegar explained and his gaze darted briefly to her sister Allyria, who was standing next to their Lord Father’s chair, holding unto his arm and observing them in silence. “My visit here only serves as a reason to hide our true purpose. I think it is best if Arthur explains his reasons to you, my Lord.”

“Very well,” old Lord Dayne grumbled and tapped his staff on the ground. “Speak and make it quick. I am an old man and I have no time to waste.”

“I will,” Arthur replied through gritted teeth and took Lady Jorelle’s hand. Then he led her towards his father’s chair and placed her hand on his. “This is Lady Jorelle Flint and she carries my child. That is why I came here. I know it is much to ask, but this babe, though a bastard, is a Dayne and you once told me that a Dayne would never abandon his own blood.”

Shock and anger were written on their Lord Father’s face in equal measure and he quickly pulled his hand away.

“I see,” their Lord Father said and grimaced. “So, you couldn’t keep your cock in your pants after all? Well, I am not surprised. I always thought your idea of joining the Kingsguard was a folly. You should be thankful that Prince Rhaegar has a soft spot for you or you would have been burned alive. I assume the King doesn’t know about this?”

“Indeed,” Rhaegar confirmed. “Officially we are here on a visit, but in truth this is all about Lady Jorelle Flint and her babe. My wife is very fond of her and wants to see her taken care of, my Lord.”

Hearing this their Lord Father’s demeanor softened. He even smiled a little.

“Well, then you are a lucky girl, Lady Flint,” Lord Dayne added and leaned forward in his chair. “But there is something that irks me about Arthur’s plans. I cannot accept that my grandchild will be a bastard.”

“But there is no other way,” Arthur replied vehemently. “And since when did you dislike bastards? You fathered two of your own!”

“I did,” their Lord Father replied bluntly. “But your brother’s late wife wasn’t able to give us a trueborn heir. It is only natural that I am entertaining these thoughts.”

“What are you trying to say, Lord Father?” asked Ryon, who had observed their conversation in silence.

It was true what their Lord Father had said. Ryon had been wed for six years, but his Lady had never born a living child, before she perished from a fever scarce a year ago. She also believed to know what their Lord Father intended for Lady Jorelle, though she doubted Arthur would like the idea.

“That you are going to wed the girl,” their Lord Father returned bluntly as ever. “Such an arrangement would serve both sides. Arthur can’t leave the Kingsguard unless King Aerys is removed from the throne and I want to have a grandchild that can serve as my heir.”

“I do not even know that girl!” Ryon protested angrily. “Is she even nobility?”

“She is a Lady from House Flint,” Arthur answered through gritted teeth, his hand still resting on Lady Jorelle's shoulder, who looked as if she was close to tears. ”She is of noble blood, but her family would not treat her kindly if they knew about her state. Bastards are regarded differently in the North than in Dorne.”

“Mayhaps you should have thought about this before you put your cock inside her, dear brother,” Ryon grumbled and rose to his feet. “I am not going to bed another woman when my wife’s body is barely cold.”

“Stop playing stupid, you fool,” their Lord Father grumbled. “I raised you better than that. Nobody asks you to bed the girl. All you have to do is marry her.”

Lady Jorelle trembled when she heard this and Ashara decided to interfere. These foolish men had forgotten that this was more than just a formal matter.

“What about you, Lady Jorelle?” she asked the girl softly. “What do you think about all this?”

The girl’s turned a shade paler and her lips quivered as she spoke. The way Arthur’s looked at her told her that this had been more than a quick tumble beneath the sheets.

“I do not know,” she whispered, her gaze flickering from Arthur to Ryon. “And I do not wish to be a burden. I hoped I could stay here until my babe is born, but I certainly didn’t expect a marriage proposal.”

“At least someone is reasonable,” Ryon sighed. “Did you hear what she said, father?”

“I did,” their father grumbled and tapped his cane on the ground in an anxious manner. “But I won’t accept anything less. Either the girl weds Ryon or she may leave.”

Ashara sighed deeply and made her way over to her father to place her hand on his shoulder.

“Isn’t that a bit cruel?”

“Cruel or not,” their father replied. “Arthur didn’t care for my feelings or wishes when he wrote to King’s Landing and donned the white cloak. I am an old man, but I am still Lord Dayne. My word is law.”

“But…,” Ashara began, but Arthur cut her off.

“Very well, father,” Arthur replied, his voice laced with suppressed anger. “I agree.”

Then he shifted his attention to Jorelle.

“My father’s offer is reasonable, Jorelle,” he said. “You should agree to it.”

Jorelle bit her lips, but nodded her in agreement.

“If you think that is the best solution, Arthur,” she said in a trembling voice.

“But I don’t,” Ryon grumbled. “I will not be forced into this.”

“You will obey!” their Lord Father exclaimed angrily. “Or I will disinherit you in favor of Ashara.”

Even Ashara was shocked and was about to say something, but Ryon silenced her with a wave of his hand.

“Very well,” He replied through gritted teeth. “I will participate in this little charade, but not for your sake, Lord Father. I am doing it for Arthur and his gentle lady.”

“Whatever,” Lord Dayne snapped. “I shall be pleased as long as you speak your vows.”

Ashara exhaled deeply and patted her father’s arm.

He brushed her hand away.

“I have not need of your attentions, daughter. What we need is a Septon.”

Ashara sighed in frustration.

“Of course, Lord Father.”

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jorelle's babe will be Edric Dayne, but a bit older. In the books I think he is born in 287.


	38. Lyanna

**Lyanna**

Lyanna immediately woke when she heard her boy’s whimpering cry. Slowly, she opened her eyes, the bright sunlight blinding her momentarily as she brought herself into a sitting position. She was still weak from the complications during the birth and thus she was slower than anticipated.

She had to lean against the wall, as she stumbled towards the antechamber where she would find her boy and the nursemaid, a girl named Marya.

Lyanna had long gotten used to her boy’s tendency to wake up at the strangest of times, mostly in the middle of the night or early morning like now. The sky outside the window stilled painted in orange and yellow, the Blackwater glimmering like a band of silver.

Carefully, she pushed the door open and stepped inside. As always, she found Marya at work, her nipple exposed and her boy sucking greedily. She was a plump girl with blond hair, but mild-manner. Still, Lyanna missed Jorelle’s presence and that of her other ladies. Occasionally the Queen came to visit her, sometimes even in company of Prince Viserys, but every time Lyanna had asked him about her ladies, the Queen found a way to avoid the topic.

She also missed Rhaegar, but then she had asked him to accompany Ser Arthur and Jorelle. That he hadn’t been here for their boy’s birth hadn’t been Rhaegar’s fault, but it made her wonder if the Queen’s letter had reached him yet or if he was already on his way home. Whatever it was, she hoped the time would pass soon.

Their boy was still without a name. She and Rhaegar may have discussed names, but they had yet to settle on one.

“Princess…,” Marya exclaimed quietly as she noticed Lyanna’s presence and was about to rise to her feet, but Lyanna stopped her with the wave of her hand.

“Please continue,” she whispered, not wishing to wake her sweet boy. Raised on tip-toes she made her way through the room and sat down on a nearby chair, just watching as Marya fed her little boy.

She still felt weak and at times she was in pain, but she couldn’t help but to smile when she looked at her little boy.

He lay curled in Marya’s arms, his small eyes slightly open as he sucked. His eyes were grey, but at times they were dark like Rhaegar’s. Even the Queen had remarked upon it.

Lyanna still feared the King’s reaction. She was sure he had wished for silver-haired babe with bright purple eyes, but instead she had birthed a babe that looked half wolf and half dragon.

 _I am going to kill him myself if he ever dares to harm my boy_ , she decided right there and watched as the nursemaid finished her work and dipped her boy’s mouth with a clean cloth. He looked so small, so weak.

 “Is he done?” Lyanna asked quietly as she leaned closer towards the nursemaid.

Marya graced her with a shy smile.

“He will soon fall asleep.”

“I shall take him,” Lyanna replied her hands wide.

The nursemaid gave her a skeptical look and Lyanna sighed. She hated that the servants and the Queen were treating her like an invalid. She may be weak, but she was still a woman bred in the North. She had endured harder conditions.

“I shall not walk around. I promise.”

These words seemed to satisfy Marya and she finally handed her the babe.

As Marya had said earlier, her boy fell asleep soon after. Lyanna just sat in silence and held him close, marveling at the softness of his brown hair.

It was slightly curled like her own, but a bit lighter in color, a bit like her mother’s hair.

Holding him like this, she became aware of the wetness of her breasts leaking through her nightgown. By now she had gotten used to it, but at times she felt as if she was overflowing with milk.

That the nursemaid forbade her to feed her boy herself hadn’t surprised her, but at times she felt the longing to put her babe to her breast.

 _Soon_ , she thought and rocked him gently. _When we are back at Dragonstone._

Rhaegar had promised her to take her back there after the birth. Lyanna wouldn’t have cared if he took her to Essos, as long as she was far away from the King.

She would miss the Queen, but then the King might allow her to join her at Dragonstone once her time came.

“There you are, child,” the Queen’s voice startled her momentarily. Lyanna lifted her head and clutched her babe to her chest as she turned around to face the Queen.

As so often these days, she was garbed in widely-cut silk dress to ease the movement with her ever-growing belly.

“Have you been searching for me?” Lyanna asked and waved her hand at the nearby chair. “I know that I promised to visit you, but I forgot the time.”

The Queen smiled, her silken dress swishing over the floor as she made her way to the empty chair.

Carefully, the Queen lifted herself into the chair. She sighed deeply when it was done, her cheeks slightly flushed as her hand rested on her protruding belly.

“I do understand you,” the Queen remarked gently as her gaze washed over her sleeping grandson. “He is a pleasant child and so quiet. Rhaegar was similar, but Viserys tended to cry like a madman. He was always hungry and hardly ever slept through. The nursemaids were so worn out that I was forced to fed Viserys myself.”

Lyanna was stunned by this revelation.

“And nobody took offence?”

“Nobody knew,” the Queen replied, an amused smile curling on his lips. “Though some of my ladies probably wondered why I had these bite marks on my breasts…Viserys was a biter.”

“Viserys bit you?” she asked in utter disbelief, not wishing to appear too forward.

The Queen chuckled.

“Viserys teethed too early and indeed liked to bite me. Sometimes I even bled.”

“Gods be good,” Lyanna exclaimed, but grew silent when she noticed that she had woken her boy. He squirmed a little, but even then, he remained relatively calm. “I supposed I should feel blessed that I have a good nursemaid.”

“Indeed,” the Queen agreed and leaned over to touch her boy’s curled brown hair. “His hair is lighter than yours. He looks a bit like my Uncle Duncan.”

“Duncan,” Lyanna repeated and rocked her babe left and right. “The Prince of  Dragonflies had brown hair?”

The Queen chuckled lightly and nodded her head in confusion.

“Why are you so startled, my child?” the Queen asked. “Not all Targaryens are born with silver hair and purple eyes. Besides, his mother was a Blackwood…Queen Betha Blackwood.”

The mention of King Aegon’s Queen sparked her memory.

“Prince Duncan was King Aegon’s heir, wasn’t he?”

“He was,” the Queen replied sadly. “He was a fine man. Smart, able and a good warrior. His only sin was to wed a woman he loved, as did many of my grandfather’s children. My father King Jaehaerys also wed my mother for love, though she was his sister.”

“Jenny of Oldstones,” Lyanna said quietly and shrugged her shoulders. “My Lady Mother never failed to weep when she heard this song. Did you know her? What was she like?”

The Queen’s smile was sad.

“She was a beautiful, but also a very strange woman. Like my father she was drawn to magic and prophecies. She also loved Summerhall and liked to spend much time there in company of Duncan. I think Rhaegar inherited his love for Summerhall.”

“Summerhall burned down…,” Lyanna said in confusion, but the Queen’s nodding silenced her.

“Rhaegar loves these ruins,” the Queen explained. “He was born there, amidst salt and smoke, like the woodswitch prophesied to my father King Jaehaerys. Until his death he believed that Rhaegar was the promised prince.”

Lyanna couldn’t help but to frown.

“Promised Prince?” she asked. “What does that mean?

A surprised expression washed over the Queen’s face.

“He didn’t tell you…,” she concluded in a whispering voice, her purple eyes suddenly distant. “I think it is best if you ask Rhaegar yourself, my child.”

Lyanna liked the Queen, but she disliked that she was treating her like a child. She had tolerated it so far, but she was weary of spending her time locked up here.

She had long realized that something was going on behind her back, but only now she was she completely sure about it.

“I shall,” Lyanna declared and rose to her feet to place her sleeping boy back into his crib.

Then she straightened herself and searched the Queen’s face.

“But I think there is something you are not telling me. I know that you mean well, but I am back to health and I feel a bit like a fool, being kept away from everything around me.”

The Queen looked torn, but answered her question in a hesitant tone.

“One of your Ladies…Lady Lysa Tully was accused of poisoning you, my child.”

Lyanna felt like slapped. The very idea was insane, but the Queen was not prone to lying.

Lyanna shuddered and moved closer, her voice intentionally low, least she woke her babe.

“Is there evidence?”

“They found herbs in her rooms,” the Queen explained and shrugged her shoulders in a helpless manner. “The King wanted to kill her, but I managed to convince him to hold a trial.”

Lyanna’s heart nearly jumped out of her chest. She was even more shocked that the Queen had kept this from her.

She should be angry, but she saw the Queen’s distraught face she knew that she only meant well.

“Allow me to see, Lady Lysa,” Lyanna demanded. “Please.”

The Queen exhaled deeply, but nodded her head in confirmation.

“I shall try my best.”

…


	39. Ashara

**Ashara**

The Sept of Starfall was a small building with white-washed walls and a gilded altar lightened by hundreds of candles. Ashara had never been a great believer in the Faith of the Seven, but her late mother had been very pious and had always insisted that she and her brothers attended the mass regularly.

Arthur didn’t seem to find the comfort their mother had found in these halls, but that was no surprise. The girl that carried his child stood there in front the Septon and was exchanging vows with their brother.

Ashara’s heart ached for both her brother and the poor girl, but then she also knew her father better than most.

 _He would have never given in_ , she knew and watched as the Septon bound together Ryon’s and Lady Jorelle’s hands. Discomfort was written all over their faces, but both managed to keep their composure and listened patiently to the Septon’s blessings.

Once this had been accomplished, her brother Ryon placed a kiss on Lady Jorelle’s cheek. It was nothing more than a peck on the cheek, but she noticed how Arthur had tensed next to her. For a moment, she had even feared he might storm forward to stop the wedding altogether.

There was clapping to be heard, but it was subdued and forced. Prince Rhaegar and Ned looked just as tense. Only her father and her little sister Allyria seemed pleased, though the latter was far too young to understand the implications of this wedding. She had been simply pleased to wear a pretty dress and to play flower girl for Lady Jorelle.

What followed was a small feast, consisting of different kinds of roasted meat, accompanied by hot peppers and wine.

Since they had had no time to call for a minstrel, the Prince had borrowed her sister’s practice harp and played up a handful of jolly songs, yet neither the bride or the groom seemed particularly enthusiastic to dance. They had shared one awkward dance, before they returned to their respective places at the head of the table next to Ashara's father.

“You should ask Lady Jorelle for a dance, brother,” she suggested to Arthur. “I am sure she would like that.”

Arthur frowned and drowned another cup. It was his third one, which only helped to show how much all of this had affected him. Her brother was not a man prone to drinking and she didn’t want it to become a habit.

“You should dance with Lord Stark,” he suggested sourly and his gaze darted to their father, his face a grimace of anger. “Father did this to repay me. He did it to hurt me. This I will never forgive.”

To hear such vitriol from her brother’s mouth surprised her, but she also understood his feelings. What their father did was cruel and yet it was also the best possible solution for all involved. Arthur would have nothing to fear of the King and their father would finally get the grandson he so desperately desired. Even better was that he would be born from Arthur’s loins, the son he had always wanted to succeed him. Mayhaps that was the real reason their father had been so cruel. By joining the Kingsguard Arthur had ruined all their father’s dreams and hopes for Arthur, though Ashara knew very well why her brother had done it. It was done partly done out of grief over the passing of his betrothed and to secure Ryon’s position as heir to Starfall.

“Father was wrong,” she admitted quietly and patted his shoulder. “But there is nothing we can do.”

“No,” Arthur agreed and re-filled his cup, before drowning it again. “There is nothing I can do.”

Ashara sighed deeply, but decided to follow Arthur’s suggestion. Ned would soon leave in company of the Prince to return to King’s Landing and thus she wanted to enjoy their last days together. Granted she would see him at Brandon Stark’s wedding, but who could say if this wedding would even take place, given the bad tidings they had received only a day ago. Apparently, Princess Lyanna had given birth to a son, but said birth had taken place prematurely and had supposedly been caused by poison slipped into her tea by no other than Lady Lysa Tully, the second daughter of Lord Hoster Tully. Said girl was now facing a trial and probably death. It was a terrible situation and thus she was not too disappointed that Ned’s visit had been cut short.

As expected, she found Ned seated in company of the guards that had accompanied him and the Prince to Starfall. He was not yet part of the family and thus his father was showing him his place by having seated on another table.

Ned had assured her that he didn’t mind, but even Ashara was growing weary of her father’s tests.

“Ned,” she said and smiled at him, though she held little interest in dancing tonight. Ned wasn’t much of a dancer either and thus she was sure he would appreciate a different suggestion. “Do you care for a walk?”

His solemn face lightened up like a candle and he bobbed his head in agreement.

“It would be my pleasure.”

Leavening the wedding behind them, they stepped out of the castle along the cobbled path leading to the beach and the small port belonging to Starfall.

It was a beautiful day and the sky was covered in a blanket of blue, blinking stars dotting the distant horizon.

“Ser Arthur seems unhappy with this arrangement,” Ned remarked awkwardly. “But it is probably for the best. Lord Flint is a hard man. A bastard child wouldn’t have fared well in the North.”

“You think that my brother acted wrongly, don’t you?” she asked gently and pulled on his arm.

Ned stopped and met her gaze. He looked conflicted, but he didn’t sugarcoat his answer like many would have done to flatter her.

“He is a man of the Kingsguard,” Ned said in a subdued voice and smoothed his hand over her shoulder. She shivered slightly, but not from the cold. “Prince Rhaegar would be obligated to report him to the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, but given the King’s state of mind it is understandable that he is refraining from doing so. Still, that doesn’t change the fact that he acted wrongly.”

Ashara sighed deeply, but at times she wished Ned was slightly less infatuated with honor and would see the truth in front of his eyes. The world cannot be separated into dishonorable and honorable men. Most of them were something in between. Even the King had not always been as mad as now. It was the Defiance of Duskendale that had changed him thus. Arthur may be a far better man than the King, but even her brother had his failures and desires.

“Oh, Ned,” she said with a heavy voice. “You wouldn’t speak like that if you knew my brother’s reasons for joining the Kingsguard. My father never held much love for Ryon. He has been a sickly child and always lacked behind Arthur. Thus my father had always intended for Arthur to continue the Daye line and eventually found him a match with Lady Myria Jordayne, the late sister of the current Lord Trebor Jordayne. She was a delightful girl and looked a bit like Lady Jorelle, but died from the sweating sickness scarcely a moon before the wedding. Arthur was grief-stricken and when my father simply intended to exchange said bride for another, Arthur balked and took matters into his own hands. He appealed to his friend Prince Rhaegar to suggest him as a member of the Kingsguard and as it happened the King gave his approval. Thus, Arthur left and my father grew into the bitter old man he is now. It is not as easy as you think.”

Ned had listened in silence, his sharp features softening as he lifted her hand and placed a kiss on her hand.

“It seems I was wrong,” he admitted, his voice laced with guilt. “It was good of you to set me straight. It is just…when they speak of the Sword of the Morning they paint him as the epitome of chivalry.”

Ashara chuckled lightly, amused by Ned’s words. He had sounded almost like a little boy.

“Then, let me tell you,” she explained. “None of the members of the Kingsguard are more honorable than other men. They just better at killing, which is the reason the King gave his approval to my brother's admission to the Kingsguard. Honor had little to do with it, Ned.”

Ned frowned and as if he couldn’t bring himself to agree with her. Ashara recognized this at once and lifted her hand to place it on his cheek.

“Please don’t be angry,” she asked apologetically. “But it seems my time at court tainted my views of the world. Honor is wonderful concept, but at court it means nothing. Lies and false flattery is the common language every courtier speaks. Your sister will have to learn that if she wants to be Queen and it seems she already got her first taste of it.”

Ned nodded his head and squeezed her hand. Then, he leaned closer and placed a soft kiss on her lips. She wished he lingered longer than was appropriate, but then that was Ned’s nature.

“I understand,” he said at last and leaned his head against her brow. “But that doesn’t mean I agree with the practice at court. I hope Prince Rhaegar will get rid of these false vipers, though I suppose that is a fruitless wish. Well, regarding my sister…Lyanna is strong-willed…she will pull through. It is Lady Lysa I fear for and the consequences of this trial. Lord Hoster Tully is not going to like this and some might see it as further evidence of the King’s growing madness. It could lead to a war and wars are never bloodless. I also cannot believe that Lady Lysa would commit such a heinous crime. I have met her before…she is a shy and simple girl. There is something rotten about this incident. All we can do is hope that everything turns out fine.”

Ashara smiled.

“Aye, let’s hope that everything turns out fine.”

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for my lack of updates but I had to work on the Red Door. The next chapter should be out more quickly.


	40. Rhaegar

**Rhaegar**

A heavy grey sky hung over King’s Landing when he stepped foot into the Red Keep. As always, Ser Arthur was at his side, no matter how distraught he had been to leave Lady Jorelle in Starfall.

_One day she will be the Lady of Starfall_ , he reminded himself as he laid eyes on Arthur’s tense face. _And her child will be the Lord or Lady of Starfall._

Lord Stark had also accompanied them, but Rhaegar had asked him to wait for another day before visiting his sister. He wanted to speak alone with her and Lord Eddard would be a hinderance. It wasn’t like he didn’t trust him, but this was a serious matter that afforded careful handling.

“I shall seek out Lyanna,” Rhaegar explained to Arthur and graced him with a smile. “Alone.”

“Certainly, my Prince, “ Arthur replied and left.

Rhaegar knew his father was expecting him, but he decided right there that the vicious troll ought to wait for his audience. Rhegar wanted to savor the calm before the storm, namely the upcoming trial meant to decide Lady Lysa’s fate.

That Lady Lysa was Lord Hoster Tully’s daughter made it only worse. Everything could have been so perfect, but like so often fate decided to piss into his broth.

_Who was it_ , Rhaegar wondered as he paced along the corridor towards Lyanna’s chambers. _Was it the Spiders’ work ? Or mayhaps it was my cousin Robert who wanted to revenge on me for stealing his betrothed? Or perhaps the Dornish? For casting aside Elia…_

All these thoughts whirled through his head until he arrived at Lyanna’s chamber. Then, they were exchanged by fresh sorrows and fears taking hold of his mind. Sorrows and fears that had been torturing throughout their travel from Starfall to King’s Landing and had kept him awake at night.

_I left her alone_ , he thought and exhaled deeply. _That was unworthy of me. I should have refused her request to travel to Starfall._

As he brushed these thoughts away, he opened the wooden door, trying to make as little noise as possible in case Lyanna might be asleep. Glancing inside, he realized soon that this was not the case. She was seated beside the window, her back turned to him. Not far from her sat an unfamiliar woman, who was suckling a babe.

_The nursemaid_ , Rhaegar concluded swiftly and stepped inside. _And the babe…my son._

His heart started to speed up at that thought, but his attention was soon directed at Lyanna, who had turned upon hearing the sound of his footfalls.

“Rhaegar!” she exclaimed, her voice unnaturally high as she jumped to her feet.

Quickly like a squirrel she sprinted through the room and into his arms. Her actions caused him to stumble backwards, an undignified groan leaving his mouth.

“Forgive me,” she apologized, her voice laced with amusement as she lifted her weight from him. “I didn’t mean to startle you…Are you hurt?”

“Not hurt,” Rhaegar assured her, his gaze darting to the nursemaid. The young woman was staring at him with wide eyes, her mouth slightly agape as she continued to rock the babe in her arms. “Just surprised.”

Rhaegar didn’t fault her for looking star-struck. Seeing the Crown Prince in such an undignified position must be unsettling for her.

“Forgive the sudden interruption my, my Lady,” he replied as he pulled himself back to his feet. “I should have announced my presence.”

“Nonsense,” Lyanna chuckled before moving back to the nursemaid’s side, who stood there frozen to the crowd as if she was waiting for Rhaegar’s permission to move. “It is a pleasant surprise, isn’t it, Marya?”

The girl named Marya finally reacted.

“Of course,” she stuttered and dipped her head. “Certainly…a surprise.”

“Oh, don’t be so frightened!” Lyanna teased the young woman and spread her hands wide. “The Prince shan’t harm you. He is half as frightening as he looks. And give me the babe. You look as if you are about to drop it.”

“I would never…,” the young woman stuttered and gave Lyanna a mortified look, who quickly silenced her with a wave of her hand.

“Of course not,” Lyanna assured her gently and pried the babe from the young woman’s arms. “I was merely jesting, Marya. I would never accuse you of such negligence.”

Utter relief washed over the young woman’s face and she quickly dropped a curtsy, before fluttering out of the chamber in a whirl of blue skirts.

“Here,” Lyanna announced almost gently and showed him the small babe, their son. “Meet your son.”

“Our son,” Rhaegar corrected instinctively, but remained frozen to the ground, his heart threatening to jump out of his chest as he took in the babe’s appearance. Rhaegar scarcely recalled what Aegon had looked like, so little he had seen of him. He only recalled a tuft of silver hair and a pale round face. With Rhaenys it had been different. She had been born with inky hair and black eyes like her mother. His second son looked similar, though his hair was of a lighter color and his eyes were dark grey instead of black.

“He looks just like you,” Rhaegar added in a raspy voice, his heart overflowing with warmth. “Give him here.”

“He has your eyes…at least your mother thinks so,” Lyanna countered and lifted their boy into his arms, a loving smile curling on her lips.

“It is true,” Rhaegar agreed when he took a second glance at the babe’s eyes. They were dark, with a hint of purple, like his own eyes. “But I doubt my father will approve. He was already wroth that Rhaenys was born with the Dornish looks. Has he seen him?”

“Briefly,” Lyanna confirmed and grew very quiet. “Only briefly.”

Rhaegar instantly regretted his decision. She had gone through hell and back and he was acting like an ass.

“Forgive me,” Rhaegar apologized quickly and graced her with an assuring smile. He would have embraced her or kissed her, but that was difficult with his son in his arms. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I do not share my father’s misgivings. I do not care that he lacks silver hair and purple eyes. He is nonetheless a dragon.”

“A dragonwolf,” Lyanna corrected him and leaned closer to brush her hand over their boy’s soft hair. “And your father didn’t even blame me…he blamed Lady Lysa. He thinks the poison she supposedly slipped into my tea stole his grandson’s dragon features. His madness  is ridiculous and terrifying at once.”

“It is,” Rhaegar agreed. “I am surprised that my mother managed to keep him from burning the poor girl.”

“There is a trial,” Lyanna added in surprise searched his face. “Did your mother inform you?”

“Of course,” Rhaegar lowered his voice, after his son had started to whimper and squirm. “But it doesn’t help our situation, does it? I doubt this will be a fair trial.”

“No,” Lyanna agreed. “Maybe if we could find the culprit…” she trailed off.

“We don’t have much time left,” Rhaegar countered in a quiet and controlled voice. “I have been wrecking my brain for a solution and all I am able to come up with is this…Lady Lysa’s only chance is to ask for a trial by combat.”

Lyanna nodded her head in understanding. “Your mother said the same. She immediately dispatched a raven to Riverrun. The Blackfish is on his way.”

Hearing this, Rhaegar felt a hint of relief. The Blackfish was a veteran at war and an excellent swordsman, yet even so, he would have to face a member of the Kingsguard…

“Rhaegar,”  Lyanna called out to him, her hand touching his shoulder. “Did you hear what I said?”

“I did,” Rhaegar said and nodded his head in confirmation. “My mind was straying…What I wanted to say…this is good news. The Blackfish is an excellent swordsman.”

Lyanna smiled and opened her arms. “Give him back to…I feared for a moment you are going to drop him.”

Rhaegar frowned at that.

“I would never drop him.”

Lyanna chuckled lightly and picked the babe from his arms, before rising on her tip toes to steal a kiss from his lips.

“I know,” she replied playfully and sat down in a nearby chair. It was reassuring to see her smile, but when she looked up again, her face had changed to a serious expression. “I was merely jesting. I need a bit of laughter amidst all this madness.”

Then, her grey eyes darted to the squirming babe in her arms. She touched his nose ever lightly, a smile curling on her lips.

“Have you finally decided on a name?” she asked then.

Rhaegar was surprised by that question and it took him a moment to find a proper reply.

“Jaehaerys,” Rhaegar suggested. “This is the most likely name my father would approve of.”

“Jaehaerys,” Lyanna replied and watched the gurgling child. “A mouthful of a mane, but I can live with it as long as I can name our next child.”

“Aye,” Rhaegar promised “The next one shall have a name chosen by you.” _For, by then the vicious troll will be gone._

…


	41. Ned

**Ned**

Ned was relieved to see his sister’s smile. After hearing about her troubles in childbed he had expected to find her bed-stricken, but the contrary was the case.

Lyanna was radiant and her boy was a precious babe, albeit a bit on the small side due to his early arrival in this world.

“Stop staring, Ned. Hold him,” Lyanna prodded and presented her babe to him. He was swaddled in black and red silk, a three-headed dragon embellished on the front, though Ned couldn’t help but to notice the small silver clasp wrought in the form of a wolf and a dragon encircling one another.

 _The wolf and the dragon_ , Ned thought. It was fitting given that the boy had both Stark and Targaryen blood running through his veins, though the boy’s appearance betrayed little of his Targaryen inheritance. He lacked both silver hair and purple eyes, though the slope of his nose and his dark eyes showed hints of Prince Rhaegar.

And yet Ned felt hesitant to hold the boy. Benjen was the last babe he had held in his arms, though he had only done so under his Lady Mother’s careful supervision.

He felt suddenly very helpless as he was confronted with the task of holding a babe.

“Are you sure?” Ned asked hesitatingly and decided to bare his fears to Lyanna. “How do I hold him?”

“Here,” Lyanna explained and placed the small babe in his arms. She also showed him how to support his head. “See, nothing bad happened.”

“I suppose,” Ned replied and tensed when the babe suddenly started to squirm in his arms, a squalling sound leaving his mouth. It was a sharp sound that made his hears bleed, the babe’s round head turning read like a lobster.

“Gods…,” Ned stuttered helplessly, unsure what to do with the babe. “Did I do something wrong?”

Lyanna chuckled and picked the babe from his trembling hands.

“Oh, you did nothing wrong,” Lyanna assured him and rocked the babe left and right. Suddenly, as if she had placed a spell on the babe he calmed down and started to gurgle happily. “He doesn’t like strangers.”

“I am not a stranger,” Ned pointed out. “I am his Uncle.”

Lyanna laughed and patted the babe’s head.

“Your frown must have frightened him. He acts the same way whenever Rhaegar makes one of his brooding faces.”

“But he usually calms down whenever I play the harp,” Prince Rhaegar defended himself, who had observed their exchange in silence, a soft smile playing on his lips.

Ned could barely imagine seeing him brood, but given the upcoming trial he couldn’t fault the Prince.

“Indeed,” Lyanna agreed and returned to her seat beside the window. “But he wouldn’t cry so much if you tried to smile more often.”

“I shall try,” Prince Rhaegar promised in obvious amusement. “Though there is little to smile about given our current situation. I doubt I will find much peace until this matter is resolved.”

“I can only imagine,” Ned agreed and felt a hint of resentment at the person who had caused this mess. Whoever had caused his sister such pain must be a cruel person. And to harm an innocent babe. That was beyond Ned’s imagination and it was also the reason he couldn’t bring himself to believe that it was Lady Lysa who committed this crime. “I might be overstepping my bounds here, but I do not believe that she committed this crime.”

“So do it,” Prince Rhaegar agreed and searched Ned’s face. “But that won’t matter to my father. For him everything is clear. The evidence was found in Lady Lysa’s belongings and according to Lyanna’s other ladies she also had a motive…revenge.”

Ned was taken back by his words.

“Revenge?” he asked in utter disbelief. “Revenge for what?”

“For what Brandon did to Petyr Baelish,” Lyanna explained sourly and continued to rock her babe. “At least that is what Lady Cersei, Lady Selyse and Lady Lynesse told the Queen Mother when they were questioned. They told her that Lady Lysa repeatedly voiced displeasure over the incident and that she wished death upon Lord Brandon’s family for what Lord Brandon did to her poor Petyr. Yet that is not the only delicate piece of information I could gather…Apparently, Lady Lysa confided to one of the ladies that Petyr Baelish had put a child into her and that Lord Hoster fed her moon tea to get rid of it.”

Ned could scarcely believe what he had heard from Prince Rhaegar’s mouth.

It couldn’t be. He had met Lord Hoster only two times, but that he would be so cruel to his own blood was unbelievable to him.

Yet then Ned recalled what Ashara had told him.

_Men cannot be separated into good and evil. Most are something in between._

If what Prince Rhaegar had told him was true the same could be said about Lord Hoster.

“Still, that doesn’t mean she committed this crime. Mayhaps someone made use of this knowledge to frame her and to cover his tracks.”

“Exactly,” Rhaegar agreed and crossed his arms in front of him. “But I need more time to determine the culprit. I have many enemies, my lord, but I do not wish to accuse someone when I have no proof. I fear in the end it will come down to a trial by combat.”

“Gods,” Ned muttered and didn’t even want to think about such a grim outcome. “Who do you think would be chosen by the King? The Blackfish is a good swordsman, but he is getting old…I am not sure if he would prevail against the likes of Ser Oswell Whent or Ser Arthur Dayne.”

“Aye,” Rhaegar agreed. “Which makes it necessary that we convince the Crown’s Champion to lose this match. The battle in not necessarily to the death. Only one of the opponents needs to yield.”

“And you think Ser Oswell Dayne or Ser Arthur Dayne would agree to such a humiliating mummery?”

“They would if I asked it of them, but that would mean their death. My father wouldn’t tolerate such a failure. There is only one person in the Kingsguard whose humiliation would please my father…Ser Jaime Lannister.”

Ned stared at the Prince in stunned silence, trying to make sense of what he had said.

“Ser Jaime…,” Ned repeated, but Lyanna cut him off and explained the Prince’s reasoning.

“The King hates Lord Tywin. The only reason he made him a member of the Kingsguard was to goad Lord Tywin into an early retirement. That is why Rhaegar thinks the King might be pleased to Ser Jaime humiliated.”

“It certainly is a gamble,” Rhaegar agreed. “But our only chance.”

“And did Ser Jaime agree to this mummery?” Ned asked.

“Not yet,” Lyanna added sadly. “But Rhaegar intends to speak to him today.”

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pretty much what Lyanna would do with Cersei if she knew the truth:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pefeuKfGNS8
> 
> Nelly Olson is my headcanon cast for young Cersei. I don't think I ever hated a kid more than her before I saw Joffrey. They even look disturbingly smiliar.


	42. Lyanna

She had never seen the Queen Mother happier. She beamed like a room full of candles, a smile curling on her lips as listened to Viserys’ recount of his daily lessons.

Lyanna had felt miserable throughout her pregnancy. The fact that she had been locked up like a prisoner had only helped to sour her mood.

Not that she regretted her boy, but she couldn’t share the Queen Mother’s enthusiasm for this topic.

“It is good that you are trying to improve, sweetling,” the Queen Mother declared once her son had finished his tale and touched her swollen stomach. She looked ripe like a fresh apple, ready to birth this child any moment. “You must be a good example for your younger sibling.”

_My third and last prince_ , the Queen mother had told her not long ago. _At least that is what the King has been hoping ever since I told him that I am with child. I would prefer a little girl, like my first one, Princess Shaena._

Lyanna couldn’t care less about the King’s wishes. She hoped the Queen would get the little girl she wished for. Only two of her sons might have lived, but she had birthed the King enough children.

Viserys’ face lightened up immediately. He had been even more enthusiastic than the King when he found out about the Queen Mother’s pregnancy. Like the King he hoped for a little brother, though he hadn’t outrightly refused the idea of a sister either.

_I hope the babe looks like me and Rhaegar_ , was all Viserys had said. _Rhaenys and Jaehaerys don’t look much like me._

“I will be, lady mother,” Viserys promised and leaned over to place a kiss on her cheek. “But now I want a cake. It has been so long that I had a cake.”

“Want?” the Queen Mother asked, her voice laced with displeasure and amusement. “What do we say when we want something?”

“Please,” Viserys gave the appropriate answer and smiled sweetly. “Can I please have cake?

“You can,” the Queen Mother replied and leaned closer to place a kiss on his cheek. “But only after supper.”

Then, she shifted her attention back to the Prince’s nurse, seated beside the arched windows. “You heard me, my lady. The Prince may have a cake, but only after supper.”

“Certainly, your grace,” the Lady replied and not long after she departed in company of young Prince Viserys, leaving only Rhaegar, Lyanna and Ser Jaime, who had stood guard beside the door.

The moment the door had closed, Rhaegar sucked in a deep breath and glanced over to her. Lyanna gave him an encouraging smile and jerked her head at Ser Jaime.

“Ser Jaime,” Rhaegar addressed the young knight. “There is a matter that needs to be addressed and it would be best if nobody hears about our conversation.”

Surprise showed on Ser Jaime’s face. Unlike Rhaegar he was not prone to bouts about melancholy.

Ser Jaime was more prone to make a jest to wash away his sorrows, but this was nevertheless a serious topic and she feared his refusal.

“Of course, my Prince,” Ser Jaime said and lowered his head in understanding. “I swear…nobody shall hear of this conversation.”

Rhaegar nodded his head and the Queen Mother smiled in obvious relief. Rhaegar had asked her to arrange this meeting.

“This matter concerns Lady Lysa’s trial,” Rhaegar explained and searched Ser Jaime’s face. “A trial she will most likely lose…which means her fate will be decided by a trial by combat.”

If Ser Jaime was surprised by Rhaegar’s words it didn’t show on his face.

“I understand, my Prince. But why does this matter concern me?”

“Lady Lysa was formerly your betrothed, wasn’t she, Ser Jaime?” the Queen Mother asked softly.

“She was, your grace,” Ser Jaime confirmed, discomfort evident on his face. “My Lord Father hoped for the match, but I always wanted to serve in the Kingsguard.”

“And we are thankful that you are here,” Lyanna added and smiled at him. “But that is exactly the reason Rhaegar wanted to speak to you. Lady Lysa will most likely choose her Grand-Uncle as her champion. He is a good fighter, but he would have to face up against a member of the Kingsguard…” she trailed off.

Ser Jaime’s eyes widened, his blue eyes darting to Rhaegar.

“The King wants me to fight?” Ser Jaime asked, his voice laced with surprise.

“The King won’t decide anything until the trial is over,” Rhaegar countered. “And he will most likely pick the first one who offers to volunteer for this task.”

“Of course,” Ser Jaime said, his golden brows furrowed. “I would be honored to fight, but I doubt the King would choose me even if I volunteered. Ser Barristan and Ser Arthur are much better fighters than me and the Blackfish is no nobody. He is a legend. I doubt the King would risk a humiliation.”

“You have a point, Ser Jaime,” Rhaegar countered hesitatingly. “But the sad truth is…my father is a mad man and he hates your father more than he cares about a lost trial. The thing is, I do not want you to volunteer to defeat the Blackfish, I want you to lose this duel.”

“Lose?” Ser Jaime asked, completely taken back by Rhaegar’s words. “You want me to throw away my life?”

“No,” Rhaegar assured him quickly. “No I want you to yield.”

“And allow myself to be humiliated,” Ser Jaime said in utter disbelief and shook his head. “I am young, but I cannot throw away my honor for such a mummery. You cannot ask this of me, my Prince.”

“I know it is much to ask,” Lyanna added her voice. “But this isn’t about honor…this is about Lady Lysa’s life. There might also be war…Would a knight deny help to a fair maid?”

“This fair maid poisoned you,” Ser Jaime protested, but Lyanna shook her head.

“Neither I nor Prince Rhaegar believe this to be the work of Lady Lysa. She is an innocent victim…I am sure of it.”

“I…,” Ser Jaime said, obviously ringing for the right words as he shifted his attention back to Rhaegar. “Are you sure, my Prince?”

“Nothing is sure, Ser Jaime,” Rhaegar gave him the hard truth. “But I firmly believe this was the work of someone else. Lady Lysa might have had a motive, but nothing about her strikes me as clever enough to employ such a plan. She is a rather simple girl and very shy.”

Then, Rhaegar sighed deeply and shrugged his shoulders.

“But one thing is sure. I am not going to force you to volunteer. I will leave the decision up to you.”

Lyanna felt the urge to plead with Ser Jaime, but then she also knew that this would unfair.

He deserved a choice, no matter how dire the consequences.

“Think about it, Ser Jaime,” Lyanna added instead and graced him with a warm smile. “Think about it well. Mayhaps the trial will help you to decide.”

Ser Jaime paled even more. He looked torn and slightly upset, but that was to be expected.

Yet in the end he remained polite as ever and dipped his head in reverence.

“I shall think about it.”

…


	43. Jaime

**Jaime**

The Great Hall was filled to the brim, the voices of the courtiers filling his ears as he followed the King into the hall. Behind the King walked Ser Gerold and the other members of the Kingsguard walked a few steps behind him.

The King looked as miserable as ever, his long silver hair unkempt and his clothing dirty and stained with blood and the food he had consumed in the morning. Truly, he looked more like a peasant than a King, the crown resting atop his head the only indication of his important status.

A handful of steps behind followed the rest of the King’s council. There was Owen Merryweather, who had succeeded his father shortly after his resignation before the Tourney at Harrenhall. He was an amiable man, but most at court considered him useless. Next came, Lord Varys, commonly known as the Spider. As always, he was garbed in a silken robe and the heavy smell of lavender followed him wherever he went. Not far behind him, followed the rest of the King’s council. There was the old Grand Maester Pycelle, Lucerys Velaryon, the Master of Ships, and Qarlton Chelsted, the Master of Coin.

The last one to enter was Prince Rhaegar, his wife Princess Lyanna, his mother Queen Rhaella, who had to be steadied by one of her ladies to carry her heavy burden. To Jaime she looked as if she was ready to burst. Cesei, Lady Selyse Florent and Lynesse Hightower were also there following after the Queen like a horde of obedient ducklings.

Not long after, the Blackfish, who had arrived in company of a dozen swords, stepped into the hall. It didn’t surprise Jaime that he hadn’t been accompanied by the rest of his family. Hoster Tully was no fool. He must be aware of the danger the King could pose for him.

The hall was deadly silent and the courtiers fell to their knees as King Aerys climbed the high steps to his barbed chair. Jaime and his brothers had followed him to the steps where they took their position.

Jaime had dreamed of joining the Kingsguard since he could walk, but now he felt only confused, the Prince’s request ever present on his mind.

 _I can’t do that_ , he told himself for the hundred time. _I am a knight, not a mummer._

And yet he couldn’t help but to feel guilty when he laid eyes on Lady Lysa.

She looked thin, her cheeks pale and hollow. Her grey dress was as plain as the girl’s face, the maiden he had once been betrothed to.

 _Cersei would have hated her_ , he realized then, for no particular reason, as his gaze darted to Cersei his sister. She was garbed in a simpler dress than usual, black as the night and decorated with golden lions. Her golden man was also braided and neatly arranged atop of her head. She looked like the sun, bright and vibrant, but Jaime couldn’t bring himself to share her amusement.

 _Why is she smiling_ , he wondered with annoyance as Lady Lysa was brought to the center of the room and freed from her shackles. _Was she jealous of the girl because she had once been my betrothed?_

Next arrived the High Septon, a grim and pock-marked man, but his ugliness was well-concealed by his glittering robes and crystal crown.

As was custom, he recited a handful of prayers, before he addressed the accused.

“Lady Lysa Tully, you stand accused of high treason, by the way of harming Princess Lyanna and her unborn child,” she said and paused for a moment, before he spoke again. “How do you answer to these accusations?”

“I did not do anything,” the Lady replied, shaking violently. Her voice was weepy and fearful. “I swear.”

“The evidence speaks against you, stupid girl,” King Aerys muttered and leaned forward, his untidy beard brushing the ground. “Confess and I might consider giving you a merciful death.”

“I didn’t…,” she stuttered instead and started to weep. At last, the Blackfish stepped forward, to speak for his niece.

He was a tall and lean man, with a smoky voice.

“First we want to hear the witnesses, your Grace,” he demanded, his blue eyes meeting the King’s. Others would have flinched away, but not the Blackfish. He stood tall and proud.

The King seemed unhappy with his demeanour and grimaced, but didn’t refuse the Blackfish’s request.

Not long after the first witness was called forward. It was the Queen Mother herself.

“As much as it grieves me to say,” the Queen Mother said in a soft voice and graced the Blackfish with an apologetic look. “We found the herbs that were mixed into Princess Lyanna’s tea in Lady Lysa’s possession.”

Then, she jerked her head at Archmaester Marwyn, who had come to stand beside her. “Archmaester Marwyn also confirmed that these herbs caused Princess Lyanna’s early delivery.”

“But the herbs didn’t belong to me,” Lady Lysa countered, her voice rising with every word spilling from her lips. Her pale face had long changed to a crimson color, her blue eyes feverish and glittering with tears. “I swear it!”

“Be silent, girl!” the King snarled and Lady Lysa froze immediately.

“Your Grace,” the Blackfish replied calmly and put his hand on Lady Lysa’s shoulder. “I understand your anger, but the fact that the herbs were found among my niece’s possessions is no proof for her guilt. Lysa is a simple and sweet girl. I see no reason why she would harm Princess Lyanna. My other niece Catelyn is also betrothed to Princess Lyanna’s brother.”

“There is a clear motive,” the King replied, a cruel smile curling on his lips. “Revenge.”

“Revenge,” the Blackfish repeated, his voice wavering. “Revenge for what?”

The King’s smile only brightened as he waved his hand at the Queen.

“Make room for the ladies-in-waiting.”

And so it was done. Lynesse Hightower, who looked as clueless as ever, as she took position in the middle of the room and was reminded by the High Septon to speak the truth.

“Tell them what you told me.”

Thus, Lady Lynesse shifted her attention to the Blackfish and spoke.

“Lady Lysa told me more than once that she held a grudge against Brandon Stark, because he harmed a friend of hers…she calls him Petyr. She even wished him death.”

Gasps filled the hall, but the Blackfish remained unimpressed and indifferent.

“Petyr Baelish was indeed harmed by Brandon Stark in a duel for my niece’s hand in marriage,” the Blackfish replied in a collected tone and angled his head to glance at Princess Lyanna. “But I still do not understand what all this has to do with Princess Lyanna? Why would my niece want to take revenge against her in such a vile manner?”

“I agree,” Princess Lyanna replied to everyone’s surprise. “Lady Lysa never showed any sort of dislike for me. She is a friend and good companion. I do not think she is guilty of…,” she continued, but fell silent when the King’s furious gaze fell upon her.

“Your wife mustn’t speak without the King’s permission!” the King snarled, his cloak getting caught in one of the sharp blades of his seat as he had turned around so abruptly. “Remove her!”

The Prince paled, his grip on Princess Lyanna’s arm growing tighter with every passing moment.

Jaime saw the anger written all over his face, but he still played his role.

“As you wish, your Grace,” was all he said and leaned closer to whisper into his wife’s ear. She frowned, freed her hand from his grip and rushed out of the room.

Once, the air had cleared the King shifted his attention back to Lynesse Hightower.

The Prince himself had denied the Lady Lysa’s involvement in this matter and Jaime couldn’t help but to believe him. And yet he couldn’t bring himself to agree to the Prince’s demand.

“Tell us more about Lady Lysa’s motives, girl. Your King demands it.”

“Of course,” Lady Lynesse stuttered and dipped her head. This, time she didn’t look at the Blackfish. “The incident with Brandon Stark was probably not the only reason for her anger. There was another reason…Lady Lysa supposedly had a babe from this Petyr, but her Lord Father found out about it and had her drink moon tea…she lost the babe. That is why she probably wanted to harm the Princess’ babe. She was obviously jealous.”

Jaime had never seen a man grow so pale as the Blackfish. It looked as if all blood had drained out of his head, his mount opening and closing in silence.

 _He didn’t know_ , Jaime surmised by his reaction.

“Is it true?” the Blackfish asked his niece, who was shaking from head to toe. “Is it true what Lady Lynesse says?”

“Aye,” Lady Lysa replied in a trembling voice and was barely able to life her head. “But I still didn’t harm the Princess! It is true! I hate her brother, but not the Princess!”

“Silence!” the King screamed, his voice echoing through the long hall and back at them. “I command you to be silent! Your weeping voice is making my ears bleed!”

Lady Lysa fell silent again and moved no more. She looked as if she had been hit by thunder.

“Forgive my niece, your Grace,” the Blackfish added tensely, his teeth clenched. “She meant no offence, but as her Uncle I must believe her word…,” he continued, but the King cut him off.

“The evidence is enough for me,” the King declared coldly. “I could have burned her alive, but I gave the girl a trial, because my weeping wife convinced me otherwise. I should…,” he continued to rant, but Prince Rhaegar stepped forward and interrupted the King.

“Father,” he said, his dark eyes seeking his father’s feverish gaze. “The evidence against Lady Lysa is damning, but every lord and lady has the right of trial by combat. Instead of quarreling, we should let the gods decide her fate. That would spare us valuable time.”

“I have not forgotten,” the King replied in obvious displeasure. “Of course, the girl can make use of that right, but it won’t be of any use to her. No champion of hers will prevail against the Kingsguard.”

“I shall fight nevertheless,” the Blackfish declared boldly and swept his gaze over the members of the Kingsguard, assembled beneath the Iron Throne. “At his Grace’s pleasure I shall fight every single one of you or all at once! As it pleases his Grace!”

Jaime shuddered when the Blackfish’s gaze fell upon him. It was the gaze of a man who was prepared to face the seven hells.

And yet the King held only scorn for the Blackfish’s bold words.

“You want to fight?” he tauntingly and angled his head to look at his loyal servants. “Well,…,” he began, but a sharp cry directed their attention elsewhere.

In the blink of a moment all heads had turned to the Queen Mother, who was cradling her stomach with both her hands, her skirts soiled with something wet.

…


	44. Rhaella

**Rhaella**

Rhaella felt as if her body was being ripped apart. It felt as the babe inside her stomach wanted to claw its way into the world rather than to come naturally.

Gritting her teeth, she grabbed the bedding and closed her eyes as another jolt of pain washed over her body.

She couldn’t help but to whimper, her voice distant and strained to her ears. She had too little strength left to scream. She felt hot and cold, then hot again. Sweat was running down her cheeks and drippling upon her chest as she gave another desperate whimper.

“Where is it?” she gasped at Archmaester Marwyn, who squatted between her thighs, his eyes fixed more on what was going on there, rather than looking at her. “Where is my babe?”

She felt the urge to kick him, to hurt him, but another jolt of pain made her tense. Suddenly, she felt cold, her arms covered in goosebumps.

“It’s coming,” her good-daughter’s strained voice filled her ears. “Isn’t that right, Maester?”

Rhaella balled her fists as another contraction washed over her. Not long ago, the sweet girl had banished the other ladies out of the room and now only Lyanna, Rhaella and the Archmaester remained.

“Aye,” Rhaella heard the Archmaester’s answer. “It’s almost there.”

She felt like burning alive, her head throbbing painfully. Even her eyes felt heavy as she tried to search her good-daughter’s gaze.

The girl looked more frightened than Rhaella, her long face pale like ash, but she still took Rhaella’s hand in her own.

“Now, your Grace!” she heard Archmaester Marwyn’s command. “Push!”

Rhaella didn’t need an invitation. She screamed and pushed, then screamed more.

“Just a little bit more!” Archamester Marwyn’s voice rang in her ears as she gritted her teeth against a powerful rush of pain. “I can see the head!”

“Good…,” Rhaella muttered to herself. “The head…that is good.”

Suddenly, something cool touched her head as angled her head to look at Lyanna, who was brushing a cool cloth over Rhaella’s brow.

“It is almost done,” the sweet girl assured her and tightened her grip on her hand. “Wait and see.”

“Now!” the Archmaester commanded calmly as ever. “One more push and it should be done!”

Rhaella did as he was asked. It was not like she had any other choice, so blinding the pain felt.

It was a familiar feeling, a subtle pressure upon her loins that seemed to burn through her belly. She had gone through this often enough  to know what it meant.

Thus, she screamed and filled the air with an ear-bleeding shriek. She pushed and pushed, and then pushed once more. Time felt like blur until something slithered forward between her parted legs right into the Archmaester’s arms, breaking the silence with lusty cry.

Rhaella slumped back, exhausted from the labors and her eyes growing heavy with sleep.

All she heard was her babe’s cry, before the darkness swallowed her whole.

“Your Grace,” a familiar voice woke her from her slumber. It was her good-daughter, Lyanna. “Rhaella.”

 _Rhaella_ , she thought and forced her eyes open. It was strange to hear someone say her name. The last person who had done so was her mother…

Her body felt heavy, but she managed to find her good-daughter’s face.

Colour had returned to her face, a smile curling on her lips as she showed her the small babe wrapped in crimson linen.

Rhaella breathed in wonder, her previous blight momentarily forgotten. The babe was completely still, his violet eyes wide open as he started back at her. His hair was silver, almost like hers.

A third son, a third prince.

Rhaella sighed in relief. Aerys would be pleased. Mayhaps now he would finally leave her be.

“Give him to me,” she demanded from her good-daughter, her voice hoarse and distant to her ears. “I want to hold him.”

“Your Grace,” her good daughter said as she leaned closer, holding the babe out to her. She sounded sad and unsure. “It’s no boy…it’s a girl…a princess.”

The realization hit her like a warhammer to the head, tears filling her eyes. As a Queen she should have been disappointed to give her husband a girl, but ever since she had lost her other little girl she had prayed for another one.

“Give her to me,” she demanded at once, banishing Aerys’ from her mind. “Please.”

Lyanna smiled in relief and lifted the babe in her arms. It squirmed and gurgled, but felt warm. It was alive. That was the greatest miracle for her, fresh tears running down her cheeks.

“Do you have a name?” Lyanna’s soft voice filled her ears.

Rhaella had scarcely heard, her so fascinated she was by the babe in her arms.

“No,” Rhaella admitted and felt slightly ashamed. She had expected a prince, not a little girl. “Aerys wanted a prince…a Daeron.”

Lyanna frowned at that. It was not hard to see that she held little love for her King. “Daeron is a good name, but I doubt the Dornish would like that. Daeron the Young Dragon waged war against Dorne.”

“Aerys doesn’t care what the Dornish think, but it matters not. Daenerys will be her name,” Rhaella said and touched the babe’s silver hair. It gurgled happily and closed its eyes. “The first Daenerys was kind and graceful. This one shall be too.”

“The first one was wed to a Dornish Prince, wasn’t she?” Lyanna asked. “Mayhaps the King is wrong and this one will conquer Dorne with her charm rather than with weapons.”

Rhaella chuckled, but doubted Aerys would allow his daughter to be wed to a Dornish Prince.

 _No_ , Rhaella knew at once. _This Daenerys shall be Queen._

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, when I was twelve years old we had to read the most horrifying of books in school. It was about a thirteen year old boy who is living through World War Three. The boy in that book is forced to watch how every single person he loves either dies from sickness, radiation or goes mad. There is one scene where he helped another kid commit suicide and in-dept description of what people who were harmed by an atomic bomb looked like. The whole book was poor grimedark, hoplessness and just plain horrifying for a twelve-year old to read. I had nightmares for a year, would wake up shaking at night and other stuff. Eventually, I re-read the book when I was older and now I understand why the author wrote this book, namely to wake people up to the danger of atomic weapons. It was a book that was shocking, terrifying, but there was a massage behind it that resonated with me when I read it.
> 
> GoT has a sad ending, but I felt nothing. Nobody learned anything.
> 
> Sansa is still the selfish little brat she was in season 1.
> 
> Bran allowed thousands of people to die because he wanted to be King? Was he the villian all along? And if so, they should have explained it a bit more.
> 
> Tyrion is a hypocrite. Killed thousands of people at Blackwater, killed his lover and his own father, but sits judgment over others. Fuck him.
> 
> Varys, well Varys was a character without substance when they cut out fAegon. He should have died a long time ago.
> 
> Daenerys. Well, they turned her into Hitler for no particular reason other than that she heard bells. I mean if you look at people with reall crazyness you will see that none of them just wake up one day and wanted to wipe out a city.
> 
> Hitler was one of the most vicious of people who deserved a worse death than he got, but he was also a man who cared for his mother when she was dying, loved ot make gifts for people and loved his dog. Nobody is completely evil. Everyone has something good inside him. At least that is what I believe. D and D understand nothing about human emotions. All they know is how to write for the sake of shock value.
> 
> Jon. Well, he kinda got a happy ending. I suppose he is going to father some child on a Wildling girl that will one day become Lord of Winterfell, since I doubt Sansa is going to marry. I think she is done with men.
> 
> Arya. I don't get her. "I am Arya of House Stark and I am going home," she said in season 6. Why is she leaving now? I don't get it. Did the show writers forget what the wrote two seasons ago?
> 
> Jaime. What was the point of his character? Showing that all men are assholes to ugly women. He bangs Brienne once and then fucks off to die a cringy death with Cersei.
> 
> And Cersei. Cersei Lannister would never weep. She would laugh and blow her enemies up with wildfire. Even Cersei was horribly out of character.
> 
> And Euron. Well, he was a forgetable character altogether.
> 
> And the whole, everyone accepts Bran as King makes no fucking sense. In a realistic world the other Kingdoms would have declared independence and started another war.
> 
> D and D, for once go and read a fucking history book.


	45. Lyanna

**Lyanna**

Seeing King Aerys smile was the most unnatural things she had ever seen. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen him smile before, but never like this. She knew his mad and cruel smiles, but she had never such a soft one. It looked as if a different person had taken hold of his body after he had laid eyes on that little babe in Queen Rhaella’s arms.

Princess Daenerys looked like a pure Targaryen, all silver haired and purple eyed. Mayhaps that was the reason the King was smiling, for when he had laid eyes on Lyanna’s babe he had only scoffed and had called her boy a “Stark mongrel.” Lyanna had been distraught about the King’s comment, but not because she had desperately desired a silver-haired babe. No, she feared the King might dispose of her babe just as he had disposed of Princess Elia’s daughter by locking her away in some distant castle.

 _At least you gave me a grandson_ , was all the King had told her.  _But the next one better look like a dragon._

These words had scared her only more, but Brandon’s wedding was drawing ever closer, which also meant King Aerys’ would end soon. That is if Rhaegar managed go through with his plans.

Thinking about the future lying ahead of them, made her wonder what Rhaegar was planning to do with his father. He had mentioned deposing him, but never once had she heard him say that he intended to kill him.

 _Kinglslaying and kinslaying are a sin_ , she knew, but having seen the Queen Rhaella’s bruises and King Aerys’ madness she couldn’t help but to think that killing would be the best solution, no matter how much the gods curse them for it.

And yet, seeing the King smile at the babe that had been fathered through his malice made her wonder if it was possible that something good had remained in the King’s heart. More than once she had heard Rhaegar and Queen Rhaella imply that the King had been different before the Defiance of Duskendale, but until now Lyanna had seen no evidence of that.

Her heart had been even more fooled when the King touched the babe’s silver hair, yet as so many good things the King’s bout of kindness had lasted only a single heartbeat.

“What is the boy’s name?” he asked Queen Rhaella.

At first, Lyanna thought she had misheard, but when she noticed how Queen Rhaella had tensed she knew that she hadn’t told the King the truth.

Not that Lyanna faulted her for it. The birth of her babe had been hard and long. The bleeding that had followed at had nearly taken her life. It was only through Archmaester Marwyn’s presence that she had survived.

Queen Rhaella had probably wanted to enjoy some peace and quiet, before she would have to face the King’s displeasure.

Seeing the Queen’s pale face, Lyanna decided to give the King the truth. She had already earned the King’s displeasure, but he still had need of her to bear silver-haired babes. He wouldn’t kill her over such a silly matter, she was sure.

“The babe no boy, your Grace,” Lyanna answered and brace. “It’s a Princess…Princess Daenerys Targaryen.”

The King didn’t speak for a long time, all previous softness washed away from his sharp features.

Within the blink of a moment the madman had returned to take hold of his body.

He grimaced at Lyanna, his lilac eyes glinting with anger.

“Did I ask for your opinion, girl?”

When she was a little girl, Brandon had often taken her on hunting trips. More than once, he had explained to her that one should never show fear in face of a wild animal. Well, the Mad King was the wildest animal she knew and thus she didn’t dare to move and tried to show no fear.

“No, you did not ask for my opinion, your Grace,” she replied in a subdued voice and tried not to blink. “I only…,” she continued, but the Queen Mother’s shaking head stopped her.

“Husband,” the Queen Mother said softly and touched the King’s tattered tunic. “I know it is a grave disappointment for you, but at least this babe lived…Isn’t that worth something?”

“Something,” The King muttered to himself and brushed Queen Rhaella’s hand away. “Something is not enough. My first son was unable to father a dragon and now we suffered another disappointment. At least this babe looks like a dragon,” he added angrily and lifted his head to look at Lyanna.

Then, he smiled viciously.

“Well, at least your Stark mongrel will have a Targaryen bride. That way we will be able to breed out these Stark features from the Targaryen line, before they are able to take root. Congratulations, girl.”

Lyanna hadn’t dared to speak. Instead she had bitten her lips and had remained silent until the King had left.

“You have to forgive him,” Queen Rhaella told Lyanna in a trembling voice, her dark purple eyes filled with tears. It were Rhaegar’s eyes and her son’s eyes that were staring back at her. “He had hoped for a son. Next time I won’t fail in my duties.”

The Queen’s unshed tears woke something inside her; rage and defiance.

“You didn’t fail,” she told Queen Rhaella and patted her shoulder. “And soon the King will no longer be able to force you to have more children.”

Lyanna knew that she had said too much, when Queen Rhaella’s glassy eyes widened in shock.

“What are you saying, child?”

Now it was too late to deny the truth.

“That Rhaegar intends to… _you know_ ,” Lyanna replied and tightened her grip on her hand. “It is all planned. My brother’s wedding in Riverrun will mark the beginning of the end, though whether Rhaegar’s plans will come to pass will depend on the outcome of Lady Lysa’s trial.”

Realization washed over Queen Rhaella’s face as she clutched her babe tighter to her chest. The little Princess seemed unbothered by her mother’s fears. She gurgled happily and played with one of her mother’s silver locks.

“I should have known that Rhaegar wouldn’t sit idle,” Queen Rhaella replied and smiled sadly, before a more determined expression took hold of her beautiful face.

“Lyanna, sweet child. Would you please call for Ser Jaime?”

Lyanna was surprised by her request, but she didn’t hesitate to agree.

“Of course, your Grace.”

...


	46. Jaime

**Jaime**

When he found the Queen alone, Jaime knew that something was amiss. Well, Princess Daenerys was also there, giggling in her mother’s arms and Princess Lyanna, who had called upon him.

“You called for my presence, your Grace,” Jaime greeted upon his entrance an dropped his head to his chest.

“I did,” the Queen confirmed and graced Jaime with a hesitant smile. Then, she shifted her attention to Princess Lyanna, who had entered after him. “Lyanna…dear child. Would you take Daenerys back to the nursery?”

“Of course,” Princess Lyanna confirmed and opened her arms to receive the gigging child. “But…,” she trailed off.

“I doubt Ser Jaime would dare to harm me,” the Queen teased and it seemed that was the assurance the Princess had been waiting for, because she was not hesitant to depart with the babe in her arms.

Once, the door had closed behind them, the Queen’s smile had disappeared from her lips. Suddenly, she looked much older.

“I called you here because I wish to discuss a serious matter, Ser Jaime,” the Queen explained and drew closer. She was dressed in a violet dress, a pink shawl draped around her naked shoulders. “It concerns Lady Lysa’s trial. To put it bluntly…I want you to go to my husband and bid him humbly for the honor of fighting on behalf of the crown.”

Jaime had expected something like that, but not that the Queen would be so direct.

And it wasn’t that Jaime hadn’t thought of going, but whenever he was about to make up his mind he thought of his Lord Father, who would surely not approve of such a humiliation. Part of the reason, was also his pride. He didn’t want to humiliate himself in such a lowly manner.

“I understand,” Jaime replied and averted his gaze. “But you must understand; your Grace. This isn’t just about myself. My Lord Father will not like such a humiliation.”

“Lord Tywin is a proud man,” the Queen granted him and drew an inch closer, a smile curling on her pale lips. “So much is true and I understand your hesitation, Ser Jaime, but have you ever looked at it like this…When you joined the Kingsguard you gave up your birthright. You are longer serving House Lannister, but House Targaryen and the best way to serve us is to accept this humiliation to save Lady Lysa’s life. I am not sure if you are aware of the potential consequences of her death. It would be a disaster for all of us, but especially for House Targaryen…in the worst case it could spark a war, but I suppose that would please your father.”

Jaime was taken back by the Queen’s words, especially that she dared to address his father’s growing dislike for the King.

“My father would never dare to harm your family, your Grace,” Jaime assured her, though he knew that it was a lie. “So much I can promise.”

“Don’t lie,” the Queen replied softly and graced him with a weary smile. “I have been Queen for long enough to know how many enemies my husband has made. He earned your father’s displeasure by calling you to the Kingsguard, he destroyed our allegiance with the Dornish by having my son’s marriage annulled and now he is most likely going to murder an innocent girl and cause another war. Hoster Tully promised his daughter to Lord Rickard’s son, but such a betrothal can be easily broken and there are rumors that Jon Arryn has ambitions beyond his reach…they say he wishes to see Robert Baratheon seated upon the Iron Throne. Well, I have no prove for these rumors, but it is better to be safe than sorry, Ser Jaime…,” she trailed off.

Then, she fell silent for a moment, before sucking in a deep breath.

Pulling up her skirt, she knelt before him.

Jaime had been so stunned, he froze on the spot. It was such a surreal experience to see a Queen kneel.

“Which is why I ask you again,” she added and dropped her head. “Please fight for the crown.”

Jaime felt only shame and offered his hand to the Queen.

“Please, your Grace,” he pleaded with her. “A Queen should not kneel.”

“My husband has done much more humiliating things to me,” she countered and raised her head. She was kneeling before him, but her dark indigo eyes were filled with determination. “You know it well, Ser Jaime.”

He knew it all too well.

“Even if I agree,” Ser Jaime began and swallowed hard. “My Lord Father would try to prevent this from happening…,” he continued, but the Queen cut him off.

“What if I offered him a reward?” the Queen asked. “I know there are things even the proud Tywin Lannister desires.”

That was also true, but the things his father desired were not possible, namely, to have Cersei wed to the Prince.

“What my father wants is not possible,” Jaime replied, trying to be as honest as possible. It was already bad that he had allowed the Queen to humiliate herself in such base manner.

“Please your Grace,” Jaime pleaded again. “Stand up…if anyone were to see…,” he tried to explain, but the Queen silenced him with a shake of her head.

“Then let them see,” the Queen replied fiercely. “Is it in your hand, Ser Jaime. Mayhaps I should first tell you about the reward I was speaking about. Do not think me foolish, Ser Jaime. I know what Lord Tywin desired in the past, but that is no longer possible. I have another reward in mind…Once my son has taken the throne, Lord Tywin shall be welcomed as Hand of the King and you shall be freed from your vows to the Kingsguard. Wouldn’t that please Lord Tywin?”

“It would,” Jaime agreed, but it wouldn’t be enough for his father _._ “What my father desires above all is a connection to the royal family, your Grace.”

“A blood connection he shall have,” the Queen gave in. “But through my second son, not the first one. Once you leave the Kingsguard you shall have sons and daughters of your own, Ser Jaime. One of them may wed my son Viserys.”

Jaime was stunned that the Queen was prepared to give such promises. It was after Prince Rhaegar who would rise to the crown not her.

“Your Grace…,” he began, but the Queen’s piercing gaze allowed no room for further questions.

“I shall make it so.”

In that moment Jaime knew what he had to do.

…


	47. Rhaegar

**Rhaegar**

Rhaegar found Lyanna watching over their son’s supper. He had never wasted much of a thought on these matters before, but it must be a strange thing for a woman to watch another woman feeding her babe. The commoners sometimes fed their babes until the age of three, but noble women couldn’t afford such luxuries as it would make it harder for them to conceive. Not that he and Lyanna had tried conceiving again after the Archmaester had told him that it would be best to wait for another six moons.

Not that he had informed his father about this fact. He wouldn’t show much understanding and Rhaegar planned to dispose of his father within the next six moons. That is if Lady Lysa survived the next moon…

He had been relieved when he had heard that Ser Jaime had agreed to fight on behalf of the crown, but then even that couldn’t guarantee that his father would allow the girl to live. His father’s mind was as troublesome as the weather. A storm was ever close.

Well, ever since Ser Jaime had offered his services his father had been in a particularly good mood, probably because Lord Tywin had announced his attendance, which didn’t surprise Rhaegar and only helped to complicate the situation further.

Lord Tywin was a proud man and Rhaegar doubted that he would allow such a humiliation to go unpunished.

He couldn’t help but to sigh in frustration.

“You are worried,” Lyanna remarked in a sing-son voice as she picked their son from the nursemaid’s arms, before dismissing the girl with a warm smile. Their son had been a wee thing when he came into this world, but he had a healthy appetite, which pleased both the Archmaester and Rhaegar. Day and night, he was calling for his nursemaid’s attention, though he did it in an almost quiet manner.

His sister Rhaenys had been much different. She had roared like a dragon whenever she was hungry. It made him glad that his son was so different from Rhaenys, for otherwise he would have missed her even more.

 _Soon_ , he reminded himself. _Soon I will have her back._

“Rhaegar,” Lyanna had called out to him and had pulled on his shoulder. “Did you hear what I said?”

“Aye,” he admitted and regarded their son more closely. His face was round and fat, his dark eyes even larger than before. He had been born amidst blood and salt, but mayhaps that was another coincidence, but then Rhaegar had dreamed of a boy with dark hair and dark eyes when he had visited the Island of Faces more than a year ago. “I am worried, but I have also made plans.”

That had been another reason he worried. He disliked changing his plans, but he had no other choice.

“Plans?” Lyanna asked in surprise and leaned back in the chair she had placed next to their son’s crib. She looked skeptical. “There are more plans?”

“Aye,” Rhaegar confirmed and knelt down to take her hand in his own. Her kissed her knuckles, knowing that was something she liked and would help to ease her mood. Not that he blamed her for being fearful. They were in a difficult situation. “I have made plans to keep you safe. Only Arthur , Ser Oswell and my mother know about this, but Arthur will lead you out of the Red Keep should the situation escalate.”

Understanding and relief showed on Lyanna’s face.

“But how?”

“There is a secret passage leading out of the Red Keep,” Rhaegar whispered and leaned closer to put a kiss on her cheek, before he brushed a loose lock of hair behind her ear. When he had attempted to pull his hand away she had grabbed it to stop him. “I showed it to Arthur when we were children. I never thought I would need it.”

“And Rhaenys?” Lyanna asked and leaned closer. “What about her?”

“Monford has returned to Driftmark,” Rhaegar explained. “He is going to take her away should the need arise. He swore me that he would guard her with his life.”

“And where will we go?” Lyanna inquired further and bit her lips. “To the North?”

“Too far away,” Rhaegar replied and shattered her hopes. “I would have you go to the Reach. Lord Mace would be pleased to grant you refuge until my father has been disposed of.”

“Disposed of,” Lyanna repeated and searched is face. “Good. About time. I am tired of all this waiting.”

Rhaegar sighed in agreement and pushed his forehead against hers, seeking her soft lips. She returned the kiss, prying apart his lips and her hands brushing through his hair.

Her lips tasted soft and sweet, but her fingers stroking through his hair felt even more pleasant. It helped him to forget his doubts.

The movement of her lips also helped to wake his baser desires. It had been a long time since they had shared a bed.

“What is wrong?” Lyanna asked and pulled away, her hand brushing against his cheek before taking his hand and leading it to her breast. “Are you fretting about the Archmaester’s words?”

When he didn’t answer at once, she smiled and slipped her hand inside his trousers.

“Well, we don’t have to go all the way,” she added mischievously and palmed him. “Your tongue is good enough for me.”

Rhaegar gasped in surprise and backed away, grabbing her hand to stop her.

His abrupt movement must have woken their son, for a loud whimper left his mouth.

Lyanna let go of him immediately and went to calm their son with soft whispers, but when continued to cry louder she called for the poor nursemaid, who promptly pulled out her teat, a weary expression written all over her young face.

Rhaegar had quickly averted his gaze. His actions never failed to amuse Lyanna, her soft giggling ringing in his ears.

“Come, you fool,” she told him and pulled him out of the nursery, leading him back to their chambers.

When the door had closed behind them, Lyanna started unbuttoning his tunic while her nimble hand slipped into his breeches, stroking him carefully.

 _Yes_ ,  he thought, his mind parting from his flesh as he gave himself to her touch, until she proved to be very greedy and pulled her hand away.

Rhaegar couldn’t help but to feel frustrated as he opened his eyes.

“You are a cruel woman,” he remarked playfully and received a wide grin in return. “Do you know that?”

“So I have been told,” she returned and pulled down her smallclothes. “But I might be inclined to give you what you want if you are generous enough.”

Rhaegar knew what she meant when she pulled up the skirt of her dress and sat down on the bed.

“Oh, I am not sure what you are referring to,” he teased and knelt down before her, parting her legs. “Would you give me a hint?”

Lyanna nodded her head in a stubborn manner and bit her lips. She looked as if she was holding back her laughter, her cheeks slightly flushed.

Rhaegar grinned, his doubts momentarily forgotten as he kissed her softly.

Kissing her like this was better than playing his harp and the sound of her gasps was much sweeter to behold than the most beautiful son.

He knew she was close, when she tightened her grip on his hair, pulling hard. It heightened his arousal, his cock growing harder and longing for her touch.

Suddenly, she moaned loudly, her grip loosening and her body falling back on the bed. She looked as if she had dropped dead, but when Rhaegar heard her laughter, he knew that she was well.

She sighed when he rose back to his feet.

“One of these days your tongue is going to kill me,” she continued to tease him while Rhaegar brushed her slickness from his mouth and crawled into back to lay down beside her.

“I could say the same about you,” he played along and slipped her hand back into his breeches. “I wouldn’t be a bad death, my Lady.”

Lyanna laughed and leaned in to kiss him again, the touch of her hand brushing away his doubts, though he knew how fleeting this moment would be.

…


	48. Cersei

**Cersei**

Their Lord Father was furious. So much she could see by the way his Lord Father’s green eyes had turned a shade brighter when he laid eyes on Jaime.

What had possessed her foolish brother to volunteer as a champion for Lysa’s trial was still a mystery to her, but then Jaime had always been a fool. Even her brother Tyrion, the twisted little creature that had murdered her mother, was smarter than her pretty Jaime.

Even in bed he often needed her guidance to satisfy her needs. Truly, her dear brother would be lost without someone like her.

“Tell me again what possessed you to volunteer as a champion, my foolish boy?” their Lord Father asked Jaime for the second time since his arrival in the morning.

Jaime, who was already dressed in his polished armor and a white cloak, lowered his head when he met his father’s piercing gaze.

“My decision is not foolish, father,” he explained. “And I only did it because the Queen asked it of me and because she made me a generous offer which I am supposed to relay to you if you let me.”

“An offer?” their Lord Father asked, his golden eyebrows rising to the top of his head. “Tell me more about this offer.”

“She promises that you will be Hand of the King once Aerys has been removed from power and that I will be freed from my vows to the Kingsguard. I could be Lord of Casterly Rock…like you always wished.”

If their father was pleased by this offer it didn’t show on his face, but that didn’t mean much. Their Lord Father had an unreadable face.

The offer itself didn’t surprise Cersei in the least. Lysa’s death could mean war and it was only natural that the Queen would want to avoid such an incident at all costs.

And now she had finally seen that she needed to form an allegiance with House Lannister. It seemed Cersei’s plan had worked, though she was disappointed that the Queen had made no mention of a possible match between her and the Prince. Surely, she must see that the Stark girl was useless after her failure? She had born a son, but had nearly died by doing so and then the boy looked more like a Stark than a Targaryen. He had neither silver hair nor purple eyes. He was a Stark and the King supposedly hated him as much as he had hated the Princess Rhaenys who took after her Dornish mother.

_I shall give the Prince the heirs he desires_ , Cersei thought and smiled dreamily, but was promptly called back to reality when her Lord Father started to tap his fingers on the table.

“You should have never joined the Kingsguard,” their Lord Father countered coldly. “This is no offer, but an apology. It is not enough to repay for the danger you are going to face.”

“There is more, father,” Jaime replied quickly. “The Queen also offered a future match.”

Cersei’s heart skipped a beat when she heard this and watched Jaime expectantly.  Mayhaps he wasn’t as much as a fool as she had thought…

“A future match for whom?” their Lord Father asked skeptically. _With the Prince_ , Cersei wanted to shout. _Who else?_

“With Prince Viserys,” Jaime replied and shattered all of Cersei’s dreams and hopes.

“Prince Viserys!” she muttered to herself and fisted her skirt. She felt suddenly very sick, the world around her growing blurred and a shiver running down her spine. “I cannot wed a child!”

It was only then that she noticed that her Lord Father and Jaime were staring at her. Their Lord Father’s brows were furrowed while Jaime looked slightly amused.

“The Queen’s offer wasn’t meant for you, Cersei,” Jaime explained. “She was referring to a future child of mine.”

Cersei felt liked slapped.

“But why?” she asked. “Why would she care about some future runt of yours?”

“It is a logical assumption, Cersei,” her Lord Father replied calmly. “Your brother will be my heir and that means he will have to father heirs of his own.”

“It is an insult to me and House Lannister!” Cersei couldn’t help but protest, angry tears burning in her eyes. “I was meant to wed the Prince! You promised!”

“Stop being such a child, Cersei,” her Lord Father chided her coldly. “You can’t always get what you want and you can’t stay unwed forever. I have put much thought into this, but I think it is I find you a husband.”

Cersei froze, her heart nearly jumping out of her chest.

_Gods, no!_

“You cannot!” she protested and rose to her feet. “I won’t do it!”

Her Lord Father’s demeanor changed immediately.

“You will obey,” he replied icily. “Whether you like it or not. Now sit down.”

Then, he shifted his attention back to Jaime.

“We are done, my son. Tell the Queen that I accept her offer and sleep well. You will need your strength to endure King Aerys’ mummery.”

“Of course,” Jaime replied and rose to his feet. As he walked to the door he gave Cersei a pitiful glance, but didn’t lift a finger to defend her case. “Goodnight.”

_Traitor!  Traitor! Traitor!_

“Now back to you,” her Lord Father said and sighed deeply as he leaned back in his chair, his green eyes watching her closely. “I didn’t want to address this matter in front of your brother. Now tell me…Is there something you want to confess?”

Cersei was taken back by her father’s question.  She sensed what he was referring to…

“I do not know what you are referring to, Lord Father,” she said and averted her gaze. “I have nothing to confess.”

“You poisoned the Princess Lyanna,” he replied, seeing right through her façade. She shouldn’t have expected anything less, but she was confused to read disapproval on his face.  “I am smart enough to recognize your reckless handiwork when I see it.”

“I…,” she stuttered. “I thought it would please you.”

“Please me?” her father asked angrily. “Please me? You could have brought ruin over our house!”

“I only meant to help!” she defended herself, but her speech failed her when her father’s piercing gaze met hers. “I…”

“You were reckless,” her father countered and leaned forward. “But that will end now. Once the trial is over I am going to send you back to Casterly Rock. I won’t risk another incident.”

Cersei shuddered for she knew what her father wanted to do to her. To sell her to some worthless lord to pup him heirs and play the pretty wife.

“I am a lioness of Casterly Rock!” she protested defiantly. “And I won’t settle for second best. I deserve nothing less than the Prince!”

“You will sit down and do as you are told,” her father replied impatiently. “And then you will go and pack your things. And once you have calmed your mind in company of your family you are going to meet your betrothed. Do you understand?”

Cersei clenched her teeth. She knew that there was no use in fighting her father. He would order his guards to drag her back to Casterly Rock without and she wouldn’t allow others to humiliate her in such a vile manner. Not even her own father.

Thus, she lowered her head in acceptance. “I understand, Lord Father.”

…


	49. Rhaella

**Rhaella**

The whole court had assembled to pay witness to Lady Lysa Tully’s trial. For most of these courtiers this trial was a mere distraction, but for Rhaella the outcome of this battle could decide the future of her family.

As place for the trial her husband and King had chosen the outer ward of the Red Keep.

The battlefield was a round field covered with sand and surrounded by hundreds of people who came to pay witness to the upcoming fight between Ser Jaime Lannister and the Blackfish.

The onlookers lined the castle walks while others had to watch from windows, bridges, balconies and rooftops. Some had even brought chairs.

 As expected, Ser Jaime had donned the polished armor of the Kingsguard and a snow-white cloak that gave him a strangely innocent appearance. He was a beautiful man, so much was true and not bad of character either. At least that was her impression of the young man. His golden hair and green eyes gave him the appearance of a true Lannister, but Rhaella saw little of his father in him.

Ser Brynden had chosen to wear a blue and red surcoat and heavy plate armor, but little else.

Rhaella understood little about swordplay, but Ser Brynden was clearly more experienced while Ser Jaime had the advantage of youth.

Not that it would mattered. Ser Jaime had heard her offer and was supposed to lose this fight.

Truly, it was a cruel thing to expect such a mummery from a promising young knight like him, but the only way to save this poor misfortunate girl from certain death.

“This will a delight,” her husband cackled next to her. The servants had erected the King’s pavilion atop a raised platform not far from the Tower of the Hand.  Rhaella was seated a little below him, but she would have preferred to be far away.

Not even Rhaegar’s, her good-daughter’s and  Viserys’ presence gave her comfort. Especially, Rhaegar seemed tense and her good-daughter carried a grim expression. Only her little boy seemed excited about the upcoming fight, but that was no surprise to her. For Viserys everything was a game.

The whispering of the crowd finally subsided a little when the High Septon stepped forward. He was garbed in rich robes, a crystal crown resting atop his head. He was flanked by Ser Oswell Whent and Ser Jonothor Darry, who loomed like giants over the small man.

The High Septon spoke a prayer to the gods while the squires of the champions brought their shields and weapons.

Then the High Septon began to speak.

“We have gathered here to behold the judgment of the gods!” his voice boomed over the crowd. “May the Warrior reveal the truth to us!”

Then, he turned around, waiting to receive the King’s approval.

Her husband grinned as he leaned forward in his chair, his long scraggy beard of silver-grey hair brushing over his polished boots.

There was a mad glint in his lilac eyes as he clapped his hands together.

“May the gods judge wisely!”

With these words the two champions came together, the song of steel ringing in her ears.

Rhaella had winced at the first and second blow, but by the third blow her rapid heartbeat had calmed enough that she was able to follow the battle. Tightening her grip on the handle of her chair, she watched as the champions slashed their blades at each other.

Every time their blades kissed and every time their shields clashed together it felt as if the outer ward was hit by thunder.

Both champions were good swordsman. Ser Jaime was quick and agile like a young cat, but Ser Brynden had clearly more experience. He had the virtue of patience and held his ground, only blocking his enemy’s attacks when necessary. Contrarily, Ser Jaime was wasting his strength by assaulting Ser Brynden with a quick barrage of blows. Rhaella wondered if he would have fought like that in a real fight or if that was just part of his mummery.

Ser Jaime continued to retort every parry, his sword flashing forward like a whip. Every time, Ser Brynden moved out of the way and curved around his opponent, aiming for the young man’s left side.

Metal screamed as Ser Bryden’s sword darted off Ser Jaime’s gauntlet, leaving a scratch on the shiny surface.

It was no true wound, but Rhaella couldn’t help but to feel guilty for imposing this torture upon the young man.

Grunting, Ser Jaime stepped backwards and parried Ser Bryden’s blow to his head before retorting the previous attack with a cut to his opponent’s left side.

Ser Brynden had lifted his shield just in time and fought mercilessly. Ser Brynden’s next blow had nearly cost him the battle.

Rhaella clenched her teeth and her husband smiled, tapping his fingers on the handle of his chair.

He was clearly enjoying himself and occasionally angled his head to get a glimpse at Lord Tywin Lannister.

Much to her husband’s disappointment, Lord Tywin’s face remained unreadable as ever as the champions continued their fight.

Back and forth they moved, dancing around each other like a young pair on a fair, but neither Ser Jaime nor Ser Brynden were able to land a decisive hit. Yet the temperament of the champions had changed and the first signs of exhaustion were making themselves known.

Ser Jaime was now the one trying to hold his footing while Ser Brynden was mercilessly assaulting him. Again and again, his blade met Ser Jaime’s wooden shield, leaving it more damaged than before.

 Ser Jaime didn’t retaliate this time, his breathing labored and his movement sluggish as he lifted his blade for another attack. Ser Brynden didn’t hesitate to make use of this opportunity and snapped his blade over the young knight’s shoulder.

The onlookers gasped, but he managed to regain his footing and blocked Ser Brynden’s savage blow with his shield. Yet, Ser Brynden didn’t hesitate to wheel around Ser Jaime and found the gap beneath his armpit.

This time, the blade found its way, soiling the young man’s white cloak. Half in pain and anger, the young man pushed Ser Brynden’s blade away and slashed his shield in his opponent’s face.

Ser Brynden stumbled backwards, but kept his footing easily while Ser Jaime was  clearly affected by his wound.

Ser Brynden gave him no chance to escape. With a roar on his lips he moved forward and bashed his shield into Ser Jaime’s face, causing him to stumble to the ground.

The scream leaving Ser Jaime’s lips caused Rhaella to close her eyes.

 When she opened them again, she found the brave young knight sprawled on the ground and Ser Brynden’s blade resting on his neck.

“Yield or die, boy,” Ser Brynden demanded icily. “Yield or die.”

To Rhaella it felt as if time had stopped, her gaze flickering from Ser Jaime to her husband and back to Ser Jaime, who was still struggling for an answer.

Finally, the young knight spoke, his voice strained and broken.

“I yield.”

Even so, Rhaella felt no relief as her gaze darted back to her husband and King.

Only when she saw the satisfied smile crossing over her husband’s lips did the tension leave her body.

“Well done, Ser Brynden!” her husband cackled with glee. “You thought our young lion a valuable lesson.”

Ser Brynden, who had long pulled off his helmet, lowered his head in reverence.

“What does that mean for my niece, your Grace?” he inquired politely.

A hint of displeasure showed on her husband’s face, but when his lilac eyes darted back to Lord Tywin, he bared his yellow teeth. The old lion looked clearly upset, his eyes narrowed and his teeth clenched.

“The gods have spoken,” he replied almost in disinterest, his eyes fixed on Lord Tywin. “The girl is free.”

...


	50. Cersei

**Cersei**

 

Cersei’s face was hurting from all the smiling she had to do.

 

She was seated in the Queen’s solar, where both her ladies and the other highborn ladies visiting court had gathered to get a look at the Stark whore’s babe.

 

 _He is such a wholesome child. He seems always content. He never cries_.

 

All these compliments Cersei had heard uttered during this never-ending evening.

 

Cersei had showered the Queen with similar compliments, but they were as empty as Jaime’s head. Cersei’s plan had been perfect, but none of I had worked out as she had hoped. The Stark whore and her babe had lived and then even the Tully girl had been able to escape the King’s grasp, because her stupid brother had allowed himself to be humiliated in front of the entire court. And now her Lord Father wanted her to be wed to some foolish Lord. The thought alone made her want to weep, but she was a lioness and a lioness would rather roar than show weakness.

 

Yet, she couldn’t help but to wince when she heard the giggling of the old and young hens that had assembled around Queen Rhaella and the gurgling babe. Alerie Tyrell, Lady Marrisa Velaryon, Lady Lynesse Hightower,  Lady Selena Sunglass, Lady Selyse Florent and many more Ladies had come.

 

Cersei was one of them, though she was sure that she had only been invited by the Stark whore to be humiliated. It was all too clear when the whore had been smiling at her oh so sweetly, her pale lips painted crimson for this special occasion.

 

Crimson was a color meant for a lioness like her, not for this horse-faced girl from the north that was seated beside the Queen and cooing whenever she was looking at the Queen’s little Princess, who was attended to by her nursemaid.

 

_Gods, if the girl opens her voice once more I will strangle her!_

 

Shifting her attention back to the child in the Queen’s arms made her want to retch. This babe should have been born from her womb, though she had imagined her prince differently, all silver-haired or purple-eyed.

 

That the Stark whore had managed to keep in shape only increased the spite she felt for the girl.

 

_Well, the King is eager to have another babe. Next time the whore will hopefully die or grow fat like a pig. Then, the Prince will  hopefully grow bored with her and remove her. He hadn’t fought much to keep his first wife. Why shouldn’t it work a second time?_

 

That babe in the Queen’s arms was still young. He could still die. That was her greatest hope.

 

“I am surprised you didn’t invite the Lady Lysa, your Grace?” Lady Olenna, also commonly known as the Queen of Thorns. “One would think that the King would try to appease Lord Tully after Tywin’s golden boy got his butt kicked by the good old Blackfish.”

 

The Queen’s smile had disappeared in the blink of a moment, but she remained polite as ever.

 

“I did invite her,” the Queen explained. “But she refused. The poor girl is in a sad state. Mayhaps going home will help her to regain her mental strength.”

 

Lady Olenna’s eyebrows rose to the top of her brows.

 

“Do I understand this right…the girl is going to remain in your service?”

 

“In my service,” Princess Lyanna corrected the Queen of Thorns without hesitation. “After she has fully recovered. She is a dear friend. I see no reason why she shouldn’t remain in my service.”

 

“The girl’s reputation is irredeemably damaged,” Olenna Tyrell gave the foolish girl the hard truth. “By keeping her you are tainting your own reputation.”

 

“That’s my choice, though,” Princess Lyanna insisted. “The Lady will always have a place here at court.”

 

Cersei could only roll her eyes at the girl’s nativity, but she had expected nothing less. The girl had been born in a barbaric country.

 

“Lady Cersei,” The Queen called out to her and roused her out of her thoughts. “Are you feeling unwell? You look so pale. How about coming here to sit down with us.”

 

Cersei shuddered when the Stark whore made space for her to sit down, yet she could hardly refuse without appearing rude and thus she complied, pressing herself between the Queen Mother and the Stark whore and the gurgling babe. It was what she expected the seven hells to feel like.

 

 _Soon I will be gone_ , she reminded herself and felt both anger and happiness. _To be wed at my Lord Father’s pleasure._

The Queen smiled warmly at her and showed her the babe commonly called Prince Jaehaerys.

 

Cersei had seen him before and found him plain to look at. He had round pudgy face, a crop of brown hair and two dark grey eyes that appeared purple when the sunlight fell upon the face.

 

“He is a precious boy,” the Queen stated with a warm smile. “Would you like to hold him?”

 

Cersei tensed when she heard that, but to refuse such an offer would be madness.

“It would be my pleasure,” Cersei added sweetly and spread her arms wide.

 

Cersei felt even more uncomfortable when she received the babe. He was not only a plain babe, but couldn’t even muster a smile.

 

“He is very quiet,” was the only compliment Cersei managed.

 

“Oh, that he is!” the Queen cooed while Princess Lyanna next to her was watching Cersei with a sharp look.

 

“I think he is hungry,” the Stark whore added suddenly and spread her hands wide, indicating that she wanted her babe back. “Forgive me, for taking him from you. He seems to like you.”

 

Cersei didn’t know how she knew that, but the girl certainly wasn’t very sharp.

 

“Of course,” Lady Cersei replied sweetly and handed the mongrel back to his wolf mother. “Do what you must, your Grace.”

 

The Stark whore didn’t hesitate and cuddled the babe to her chest, before handing it to his nursemaid. Princess Daenerys and her nursemaid followed closely behind her as they disappeared, behind the curtains that lead out of the Queen’s solar.

 

Cersei was glad for it until Mace Tyrell’s dim-witted wife opened her mouth.

 

“She recovered well,” Lady Alerie remarked politely and searched Queen Rhaella’s face. “And the King must be pleased to see the succession secured. It seems I was right about the babe being a boy.”

 

“The King is in high spirits,” Queen Rhaella agreed with a smile and folded her hands over her yellow skirt made of brocade. “Well, he still hopes for another babe.”

 

“That is understandable,” Lady Alerie added softly. “I birthed three sons and Mace had hoped for a fourth, but the gods decided differently. Now I finally have a little girl.”

 

The Queen of Thorns snorted at that and took a sip from her cup of wine, before she shifted her attention to the Queen of Thorns.

 

“What Alerie is trying to say is that my dear son Lord Pufffish hopes for a match between your grandson and his oh so sweet girl.”

 

The Queen’s smile remained on her lips as she reacted to the Queen of Thorns remark.

 

“I thought my dear son has offered a match between my granddaughter Rhaenys and your grandson Lord Willas Tyrell?”

 

Lady Alerie blushed and the Queen of Thorns laughed.

 

“I told you and you didn’t listen, good-daughter,” the Queen of Thorns teased Lady Alerie. “Lord Pufffish is too ambitious for his own good!”

 

Cersei could only roll her eyes. The woman was as sharp-tongued and vulgar. She also smelled badly, like stinking cheese and rose perfume.

 

She was glad when she was finally able to leave ‘hell’ behind her.

 

It was late in the evening when she returned to the Maidenvault to rest, but along the way she came about Lady Lysa, the weeping trout.

 

The girl looked a little better now that she had finally donned proper clothing. Yet, she was still as plain as a mouse.

 

“My Lady Cersei,” she greeted, her weeping blue eyes searching Cersei’s face.

 

Cersei wanted to tell her to get lost, but then she didn’t want to rouse suspicions.

 

Thus, she smiled warmly. “Can I do something for you, my Lady?”

“Not really,” the girl replied, her voice laced with resentment. “I shall be pleased to leave this horrid placed behind me. You are leaving as well, aren’t you, my Lady?”

“I am to be wed,” Cersei informed her. _Something you will never be if the rumors are true. Who would want a spoiled maid?_

 “Are you sad to go?” Lady Lysa asked suddenly. “I am not. They are all false snakes. I thought the Princess was different from her brutish brother, but it was a mistake to get involved with a Stark.”

Cersei didn’t know why, but to hear someone share her dislike for the Stark whore pleased her greatly.

“Lady Lysa,” she added softly. “Would you like to keep me company?”

 

The girl’s face lightened up immediately.

“Really?”

“Really,” Cersei confirmed and led her to her chamber located down the hall she had been trespassing. “Come along.”

Her chamber was sparsely furnished compared to her chambers at Casterly Rock, but it was still one of the better chambers of the Maidenvault. She was after all Tywin Lannister’s daughter and not a common Lady.

“Your chamber is beautiful,” Lady Lysa remarked with wide eyes as she touched the rich tapestries. “Did you bring them with you from Casterly Rock?”

“I did,” Cersei added proudly and sat down on the soft canopy. “It is the most beautiful place on earth.”

“I was once pledged to wed your brother,” Lady Lysa added shyly and blushed. “Sadly, your brother is now in the Kingsguard. I would have liked to live at Casterly Rock.”

The girl’s answer didn’t surprise her. It must have been a dream come true for a plain mouse like her to be betrothed to her dumb, but beautiful brother.

 “I am sure you will find a match in good time,” Cersei added politely.

The girl shook her head, her eyes wet with tears. “My father will most likely see me wed to the youngest Stark boy. I don’t even want to think about it. The boy is younger than me and has nothing to inherit. If I could at least wed my Petyr I wouldn’t mind suffering poverty, but marrying a Stark makes me want to strangle myself. It was Brandon Stark who nearly killed my Petyr.”

That was something Cersei could understand. Who would want to live in the cold and barren North? Only a fool.

“This Brandon Stark is a vulgar man,” Cersei couldn’t help but to agree. “As is his  sister and the rest of his family.”

“Indeed,” Lady Lysa agreed eagerly. “And not only that…they are also traitors. My father is going to ruin our house by associating himself with them.”

This roused Cersei’s suspicions.

“Traitors?” she asked. “Truly?”

Lysa nodded her head in confirmation and drew closer.

“My father and the Starks are plotting against the King. Brandon’s wedding to my sister will mark the beginning of the Prince’s Rebellion. Makes me wish the King would find out and throw them all in the Black Cells. I would enjoy seeing them suffer like I had to suffer.”

Cersei’s heart had skipped a beat when she had heard this, both because she had been amused by this girl’s stupidity and because a new door had opened for her in this time of desperation.

Smiling sweetly, she took the girl’s hands in her own.

“I understand your feelings, my Lady,” Cersei advised and continued to lie. “But don’t fret, I won’t tell anyone.”

…

 


	51. Lyanna

**Lyanna**

“What a precious boy he is,” Lyanna couldn’t help but to remark and touched the babe’s slightly curled brown hair. He had inherited little from his father Ser Arthur Dayne, but the hint of violet in his otherwise grey eyes. “What did you name him?”

“Edric,” Jorelle replied with a heavy sigh and shifted her attention to Lady Ashara who had accompanied her all the way to Dragonstone. “My Lord Father was insisted that we call the babe after his grandfather.”

Lyanna was more than surprised by that revelation and looked over her shoulder at Ser Arthur.

“My Lord Father can be quite stubborn,” Ser Arthur added with obvious displeasure, who looked quite lost as he stared at the babe in her arms. He had yet to hold him, but then Lyanna could understand his hesitation. He was still a man of the Kingsguard and was not allowed to have a child, at least not as long as King Aerys was alive and breathing. Truly, it was a terrible situation for all parties involved. “And he always had this fixed idea that his grandson ought to be named after his lusty grandfather. Well, I do not mind the name, but Jorelle doesn’t like it.”

“I would have liked to name him after my father,” Jorelle explained with a smile. “And as Arthur rightly said…Lord Dayne can be quite convincing.”

“But he is very,” Lady Ashara added softly. “He told me that he can now die in peace.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Knowing him he is going to live another hundred years.

Lady Ashara chuckled. “Probably.”

Lyanna had yet to meet Lord Dayne, but Rhaegar had told her what an intense man he could be. She imagined him a bit like her father; stubborn, strict and unforgiving. He had yet to visit her, but then she shouldn’t have expected anything less. Her Lord Father had never liked to leave the North for too long.

At least, she could look forward to Brandon’s wedding to Lady Catelyn Stark in Riverrun.

Especially, Benjen she had missed.

“Well, at least someone is happy,” Lyanna couldn’t help but to remark and exchanged a knowing smile with Jorelle. “I have also been meaning to ask you something…I would understand if you refuse… I want you stay here at court and return into my service.”

The babe stirred in her arms as she handed it back to Jorelle arms, to give her enough time to consider her offer. It was not common for ladies who have children to serve at court, unless they were nursemaids, but Jorelle was now the future Lady Dayne and no longer a simple lady from the North.

Yet, Jorelle’s smile was unwavering.

“I would like that very much,” her old friend said and clutched the babe to her chest. “But wouldn’t that be inappropriate?”

“Some will think that, but I don’t care. I also want my son to have a companion. Your babe is not much older than mine, though certainly livelier,” Lyanna remarked as she watched the babe pull on Jorelle’s grey skirt. “I hope you can accept or I will be left alone with Lady Selyse and Lady Lynesse.”

“Well, I wish Eddy was less lively,” Jorelle replied and shifted her attention to Arthur. “I suppose he comes after his father.. As for your offer. I gladly accept.”

Arthur returned her smile, but said no  more. It was frustrating and she wished Rhaegar was here. He would know what to do.

“I am glad to hear it,” Lyanna declared cheerfully and angled her head to look at Arthur. “I have missed your company. Lady Lynesse is half as bad, but Lady Selyse has the charm of a rain cloud. A bit like Ser Arthur now…It might help to hold that lively babe of yours.”

Arthur averted his gaze and looked like he was about to flee, but Lady Ashara had grabbed his arm in time.

“Stop being such a coward, brother,” she chided him softly.

“Arthur is no coward,” Jorelle added defensively. “For if he was he would have run away with me and abandoned his duty. He did not and I respect that decision…,” she trailed off.

Then, she rose to her feet and excused herself.

Lyanna couldn’t fault her for it. It must be painful to be wed to another man, though Rhaegar had assured her that Ser Arthur’s brother was a good and dutiful man.

“I shall return to my post then,” Arthur added tensely and dipped his head, before taking his leave.

Only Lady Ashara Dayne had remained, a sorrowful expression taking hold of her face.

“This is a difficult situation for us all,” Lady Ashara admitted and sat down on the stool Jorelle had left empty. “I shouldn’t have teased my brother.”

“He will forgive you,” Lyanna assured her. “Mayhaps once the King is gone the marriage could be annulled and Arthur could leave the Kingsguard, though I am not sure whether he would agree to that.”

“You forget my Lord Father,” Ashara countered. “He might live for another handful of years.”

“Probably,” Lyanna agreed and folded her hands in her lap. “I also have a request for you, my Lady. I don’t know if you have heard about it, but the King allowed that Princess Rhaenys will soon return to Dragonstone.”

The expression of surprise washing over Lady Ashara’s face was telling.

“His Grace changed his mind?”

“He seems in an awful good mood these days,” Lyanna explained. “It seems the humiliation of Ser Jaime pleased him more than the birth of his child. Rhaegar finds it scary and I have to agree with him. Well, it is good that Princess Rhaenys is finally allowed leave Lord Snak…I mean Lord Lucerys, but there is something I wanted to ask you.”

Lady Ashara nodded her head..

“Please ask…”

“I want to invite Princess Elia here to Dragonstone and I would like to have you there.”

…


End file.
